


Hot Wings and Magic Hands

by Maleyah (Katherine_Kat)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Barebacking, Boys Being Idiots, Burn Wounds, Burned Out Dean, But these two are responsible adults, Castiel and Dean Winchester Use Their Words, Everyone's remarkably stable, Fanart, Fluff, Idiots in Love, M/M, Mal wrote a thing, Mild Angst, Misunderstandings, Modern AU, Real Time, Sauna, Sparingly, Surgeon Dean, Unsafe Sex, Valentine's Day, Valentine's Day Fluff, Yoga Instructor Castiel (Supernatural), idiots to lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-20
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:42:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 50,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21873877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katherine_Kat/pseuds/Maleyah
Summary: The one where Dean is a burnt-out surgeon, who has some minor self-esteem issues about it and Castiel is a gym instructor who helps him out of his rut.But it’s all just professional, right?
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Dorothy Baum/Charlie Bradbury, Gabriel/Sam Winchester
Comments: 285
Kudos: 465





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> FYI: Fan art in the last chapter, for those who are curious.
> 
> This story came to be, because I wanted Dean and Cas to make out in a sauna and I wanted another WIP to counteract my Pinefest challenge, which was proving a bit heavy on the angst and misunderstandings, because pining. It was beta'd by [a_wake_of_vultures](https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_wake_of_vultures/profile)
> 
> This was posted in real time from roughly December 2019 to Valentine's Day 2020.
> 
> Come join fellow SPN/Destiel weirdo aficionados on [the Profound Bond Discord server](https://discord.gg/profoundbond)! Demons of a feather flock together <3 
> 
> Happy to meet you there! Happy to have you here!
> 
> Thanks for joining our boys. Hope you have a good time.
> 
> Love,  
> Mal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean didn’t do sporty types. Not in the relationship semantics of the word ‘do’ anyway. Or the other semantics. The word ‘relationship’ had no business in this context whatsoever. Nah. They had different and weird-ass priorities, at a price Dean wasn’t willing to pay. They were too intense, too obsessed with doing the sensible and/or healthy thing, both concepts he abhorred. Sam was enough of a nightmare, thank you very much, and they didn’t even live together.
> 
> Which was rich coming from a surgeon, but here he was.

**Tuesday, January 14** **th** **2020**

Dean deeply regretted his life’s choices in this moment. Every single one of them.

Moving into an apartment a few years ago, which, although new and in pristine shape, wasn’t really right for him. Granted, it sat sandwiched between Sam and Charlie’s a floor above and below, which was a perk. He wasn’t an apartment kinda guy, but he’d needed to not be alone. Still did, but he was getting antsy. Needs must when the devil drives.

Taking the job at the children’s hospital, though it had more to do with the douche that ran the place than the kids.

Staying up too late, watching nature documentaries because he couldn’t sleep. (Okay, fine, baby animal videos, with a clear penchant for small, fluffy rodents.)

Not drinking coffee this morning, because it was ‘healthier’, landing him with a massive headache that even the horse tranquiliser he took couldn’t cure.

Actually using the gym subscription Sam gifted him. Picking the most testosterone pumped option he could, because, being at such a loss, his brain figured insta-death was the best solution. Landing him so far out of his comfort zone, he’d needed to ask for directions in Latin to find his way out. He could name all the bones in someone’s body in Latin, but directions were a blank. Tough.

Wearing a long-sleeved shirt. A given. Still lamentable, the way he was sweating.

Wearing loose shorts that rode up way too much for said classes. Though potentially that was a happy accident. More about that in a bit.

Believing in the runner’s high. He was desperately waiting for the adrenaline rush to kick in. After 45 minutes, that ought to be working its magic, right?

Except it hadn’t for him. Not now. Not once in the previous lessons either.

Ogling the instructor. Though perhaps not a regret, because apparently that part of his brain had decided to come back online… Except for the minor detail that he was pretty sure the guy caught him in the act. When he met Dean’s gaze with a cocky tilt of his head, Dean’s inner ear stopped working and he lost his balance. He wasn’t sure if he’d imagined the soft smirk, as he looked away again, giving further instructions to the group.

The number of women in the group. A skewed percentage by any stretch of the imagination, which he put down to Hot Wings _‘one more time, you got this’_ running the show up front. The man didn’t seem to mind. And on average, neither did Dean. But in this case… During breaks and sometimes at the end of class, they massed around him like bees to a flower. Or honey.

Dean was running a bit short on brain space as it was.

Why Hot Wings, you ask? Because aside from the exquisite curve of his toned ass wrapped in orange shorts, he wore tank tops which revealed the set of tattooed wings on his shoulder blades. Dean wasn’t sure what he’d been caught ogling. Ass. Tats. Either/or. Lips. Jawline. Eyes. Shoulders. Hands. Thighs. Voice, which technically you can’t ogle, but Dean sure as fuck tried. All of the above. He knew how to appreciate a living, breathing, healthy human body.

To use one of Charlie’s expressions, if he’d been a woman, he’d have slid out of his panties several times over by now. If he were prone to wearing those.

And that just didn’t sit well with Dean.

A) He didn’t want to be a creep, because for all intents and purposes, this was a business transaction. A service he paid for. Well, Sam had paid for. Which cut him some leeway, maybe?

B) Hot Wings wasn’t his type. Nu-uh. Not the kind of physical activity he was into. Because he’d been a right mess and he wasn’t sure how _unmessed_ he was. Touch and go, man.

C) He was here to break the rut of sitting at home with a burn-out.

Strictly speaking, this successfully broke his routine.

Besides the distracting aura, Hot Wings also came with a name.

Cas-Tea-Yell.

What kinda name was that?

It made weird sense, cause so far Dean had only seen him drink tea. Pale pink, yellow or green liquids, held in a giant double-walled mug with Harry Potter art on it or reusable plastic bottles.

Then there was the obligatory 90s music, which often had Castiel yelling louder than he seemed comfortable with. Or suited his natural timbre. A few times, when there was a sudden lull in the music and his voice boomed too loud across the sweating group, he seemed to wince, shooting a glare at the speakers, the kind of look that sent tingles down Dean’s spine.

But nothing else made sense.

Dean didn’t do sporty types. Not in the relationship semantics of the word ‘do’ anyway. Or the other semantics. The word ‘relationship’ had no business in this context whatsoever. Nah. They had different and weird-ass priorities, at a price Dean wasn’t willing to pay. They were too intense, too obsessed with doing the sensible and/or healthy thing, both concepts he abhorred. Sam was enough of a nightmare, thank you very much, and they didn’t even live together.

Which was rich coming from a surgeon, but here he was.

Run-down so far?

Run-down so far.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prologue cheats the real time posting, hence the title. As we move through this story, I'll be touching the holidays and then just working my way through real time dates and how the boys dance around each other, as loveable idiots do.
> 
> There will be some minor angst, in terms of their pasts, because I can't seem to ditch the original content fully, which is plenty angsty. Rest assured, they're both fairly well adjusted adults in this one. Mostly.
> 
> Enjoy! Do drop a comment, if you have the time. 
> 
> Love,  
> Mal


	2. December 20th, 2019

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Sam slid it over to him, Dean eyed the small square box with suspicion. “What is this?”
> 
> “An early Christmas present,” Sam said.
> 
> “I think you’ve got me mistaken with… anyone else in the world at this point. This has a dumbbell on it.”

**Friday, December 20** **th** **2019**

As Sam slid it over to him, Dean eyed the small square box with suspicion. “What is this?”

“An early Christmas present,” Sam said.

“I think you’ve got me mistaken with… anyone else in the world at this point. This has a dumbbell on it.”

Gingerly, as if expecting silly strings to pop out of it, he opened the box. He flipped the card over. Details about the gym and a small schedule with opening hours. A list of all the classes they offered ‘and more’. He might or might not have latent knowledge of all this, because it was where Sammy worked.

“It’s for any class you choose.”

“At a  _ gym _ ?”

He made a squinty face, as if he’d just had Sam’s post-work-out armpit shoved into his face. True story even, that, so he didn’t have to make much of an effort imagining.

“Usually the place to go to get one’s ass moving, yes.”

“Oh, I must’ve missed the damn meeting. When did I decide on that?”

“Cram it, Dean,” Sam snapped. The vehemence behind the words took Dean aback enough to shut him up for a few seconds. “You’ve been stuck at home for months. Something needs to give and you actually did mention it yourself.”

“I was drunk!”

Sam ignored the protest. “You can join my classes, if you feel more comfortable…”

“This is your work gym?”

“Yes. Look, it’s a complete carte blanche...”

“A what?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, Dr. Sexy.”

Dean smirked on reflex, but the title had a sour aftertaste and he shook his head, focusing on the subscription in his hand.

“You can pick any class you want, any location, switch whenever, however…”

“So basically your whole crew knows what a screw-up I am?”

“They know you haven’t done a wholesome day’s worth of physical activity in your life. Barring sex. That’s it.”

Dean grunted. “Much more wholesome than what you get up to.”

“And even that has been off the table.”

Well, that shut him up. Granted, it was considerably more difficult to pick up people when you hardly leave the house. And in truth, he was too tired for any of it. The push and pull. The game. The investment. Whichever way it’d swing, he knew he couldn’t cut it. He had enough on his plate without another person’s needs and wants. It reminded him too much of the power game that had landed him in this… It went beyond just ‘tired’. Not just sleep-tired. No. Tired-from-existing-tired. Soul-exhausted, Charlie had called it.

“And you’ll be free to show up as often as you prefer. Just keep us in the loop.”

“Doesn’t this go against the policy?”

Sam shrugged. “It does. Not like I was sneaky about it, so it’s above board. Charlie pitched in too, by the way.”

“Hm.” Dean gave a tight nod, lips pursed, as he understood the trouble Sam had gone through. He put the subscription back in the box. “Get some of those books off the shelf, will you? See if we can come up with a good menu for Christmas.”

Classic deflection. He did it a lot less, so when he used it, his brother always had a choice to make. Move with it or call Dean out.

Sam drummed his fingers on the counter a few times, eyes flicking from the box to Dean’s face and, visibly reluctant, let it go. It had been a peculiar balancing act, these past months, between him, Sam and Charlie, but he liked to believe they held it well. By now.

The double-bolt on his door wasn’t just for security.

Sam gave a nod, the one that conveyed trust, and turned around to pluck Dean’s favourite cookbooks off the shelf.

It was safe to say that when he decided to go, he wasn’t expecting to undergo the effects of a gym instructor in bright orange shorts with massive tattoos on his shoulders.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surgeon Dean will hold the balance between using his words and being an idiot, when it comes to love/Cas. Those words are interchangeable anyway.
> 
> I liked the idea of surgeon Dean. Doing some good in the world and running himself ragged while he's at it.
> 
> If you're here, thanks for embarking on this story with me! Much appreciated. Do leave a comment, so I can feed the beast/muse.
> 
> Love,  
> Mal


	3. December 24th, 2019

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Gabe, goddamnit, I told you not to use glitter.”
> 
> “But look how happy she is.”

**Tuesday, December 24 th 2019**

They were scattered in and around Dean’s couch and coffee table, gathered near the Christmas tree. Sam was the only one wearing remotely normal pyjamas, while Dean, Gabe and Charlie were wearing onesies. Pyjamas were a traditional Christmas gift in their household, especially if it was ridiculously fluffy or came in the shape of a onesie. Remotely normal pyjamas for Sam still meant they had tiny ‘fuck’s with two wings scattered on them. Charlie was in her Totoro onesie. Gabe had turned into Pikachu for the night, while Dean was wearing a Scooby-Doo one. A golden find from Gabe last year.

Dean leaned back, regretting the amount of food he’d had. And the way the booze was slightly messing with his head. He managed to not let it interfere, consciously steering himself to remain in the present. Away from his Mental To-Do List From Hell and how his current predicament went against the grain. Against John’s grain.

Yet despite both those uncomfortable feelings, he found himself basking in the glow of the tree lights and the company. He tilted his head sideways, when he caught movement outside and nudged his foot into Gabe gently.

“Hm?”

“It’s snowing again.”

Gabriel leaned on the arm of the chair, eyes warm. “Ahh, it’s all coming together perfectly.”

Sam caught them staring and looked back towards the windows, huffing a soft smile. “Snowcreatures tomorrow?”

“Stop calling them that. It was one time, Sunflower, one time,” Gabriel said, balancing himself on the arm rest.

“You gave it snow tentacles.”

“What’s wrong with tentacles? Snowcreatures it is,” Dean laughed.

The yelp Charlie let out drew their attention back to her. “Aaaah, Taverns of Tiefenthal! You guys, we _have_ to try it tonight.”

Charlie clutched the game to her chest, as she shook her hand in an attempt to get the wrapping paper off. Glitter poofed everywhere in small bursts of joy. Dean mewled at the sight.

“Gabe, goddamnit, I told you not to use glitter.”

“But look how _happy_ she is.”

Gabe stood, gesturing at Charlie dramatically with both arms extended. He was right, of course. Charlie was beaming, about every inch of her covered in glitter, along with parts of his couch, floor and, fuck’s sake, carpet.

Sam smirked into his hand, when Gabriel winked at him. They were equally bad, those two.

“How complicated is the game? I’m not sure I can handle an hour of rules.”

Sam smiled, cheeks aglow from the booze, and patted Charlie’s hair. “You’re gonna be coughing up glitter for weeks.”

“ _I_ ’m gonna be having glitter everywhere for weeks,” Dean said, as he wiggled his socked feet at Sam, seeing the flicker of reflected glitter on them.

He perked up considerably when Charlie handed him his gift, tearing off the paper without a modicum of patience.

“Holy shit!” he exclaimed, smiling wide and holding up the exquisitely designed item. “It’s a batarang! Or… are these bat-shaped brass knuckles?”

Charlie’s eyes widened. “It’s their design, so no, you’re not supposed to use them as brass knuckles.”

“Is it actual…? Yeah, it is,” Gabe said, eyes widening. “It’s actual metal and it can be sharpened. You could kill someone with this.”

Charlie waved a hand from where she sat, unpacking her board game. “Oh, please, Dean has magic hands, but he doesn’t know how to throw a knife, let alone a batarang.”

“Throw this? It’s going up my wall. Thanks, Charles.”

“You’re welcome. Thank _you_ for the kitty eared-headset.”

Dean oozed out of his couch and crawled over to the tree, plucking his last gift for Sam out from the back.

“Merry Christmas, Sammy,” he smiled, as he sat down on the floor next to Sam’s legs.

His brother tilted his head at him in apology, while he unwrapped it, slow but steady.

“I’m out of presents by now. You got your other one early.”

“Still making my mind up about that.”

“I figured.”

Holding up his present to Dean, eyebrows trying to meet his hairline, Sam oozed sass. “Seriously? 100 ways to cook with bacon?”

Dean guffawed. “Open it, you dolt.”

Scepticism obvious in every line of his face, Sam did as he was told and Dean watched his expression shift within seconds. When Sam met his eyes, he shot him a smug smile.

“Is this a hint?”

“Dude, you’ve been talking about getting it for forever.”

“What?” Gabriel asked. “Did he get you a puppy?”

“It’s a fake cover,” Sam grinned. “Inside is a starter pack to go adopt a dog at one of our local shelters.”

“Oh, cool!” Charlie leaned over to peek inside.

“You’re in on this, aren’t you?” Sam asked Gabe, as his voice lowered.

Gabriel’s face did that softening thing where suddenly he was no longer in on the world’s best joke all the time. “Of course I am, Sunflower. It’s about time someone got you a dog… Might as well be us.”

Sam blinked furiously as he looked from Dean to Gabe and back down at the gift in his hands. Gabriel draped himself on the arm rest, pecking a kiss to Sam’s temple and got pulled in for something else entirely. There was a muffled protest that quite devolved into pleased hums of appreciation.

Dean grimaced. “Alright, take it to Sam’s apartment already.”

Gabriel emerged from within Sam’s embrace with a stupidly blissful expression on his face. A pang of want shot through Dean at the sight and the depths of Home it entailed, but it was short-lived, as Charlie came over and hugged him.

“Merry Christmas, you guys,” she smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A brief Christmas eve chapter. Next installment is for NYE! I couldn't pass up the holidays, but the focus remains on building towards Valentine's.
> 
> Blessed Yule/Merry Christmas/Happy Hannukah/Happy Holidays!
> 
> I hope you spend tonight in the company of people who see you and accept you for all you bring to the table. Keep safe and warm.
> 
> Love,  
> Mal


	4. December 31st, 2019

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean grabbed Gabe, before he could dodge and hugged the smaller man, lifting him off his feet as he kept walking.
> 
> “This is extremely undignified.”
> 
> “Buddy, you wouldn’t know dignity if Sam bought it for you.”

**Tuesday, December 31 st 2019**

They walked down the pavement towards The Bunker, part of the hustle and bustle as people made their way to their desired destination for New Year’s Eve. Dean’s boots crunched in the snow.

“There is still fucking glitter all over me,” Dean growled, slapping at his black shirt, which was now the equivalent of a meteor tail. His leather jacket seemed to be spared for now.

Charlie hooked her arm through his, audibly pleased with herself. “Unicorn dust for 2020. You deserve it after the dumpster fire of 2019.”

“We agree on that, at least.”

“You’ve handled it well,” she assured him. “I meant it was a mess in general.”

“Besides let’s not pretend we’re not all a bunch of fairies,” Gabe smirked.

“Yeah, well, I’ve grown out of the phase where I need to advertise it. So here, you have some.”

Dean grabbed Gabe, before he could dodge and hugged the smaller man, lifting him off his feet as he kept walking.

“This is extremely undignified.”

“Buddy, you wouldn’t know dignity if Sam bought it for you.”

“That’d bankrupt me,” Sam grinned.

“True, I suppose. On all fronts, including the advertising. Now put me down, Dr. Sexy, I’m sure you’ve done your damage.”

“Oh, the night’s still young,” Dean grinned.

He put Gabe back down on in front of The Bunker’s entrance. Charlie held the door open, eyes alight, eagerly looking inside. The Bunker was packed. Not a quiet moment ahead, until his head hit his pillow at God knows what time tonight.

“What are you happy about?” Gabriel asked, as he straightened his clothes back out.

“Dorothy,” she smiled. “We’re meeting up.”

“Finally!” Dean exclaimed. “We get to meet her, right?”

“Only if you promise to behave.”

“Dude, I signed up for Sam’s classes, didn’t I? I’m behaving.”

From the counter, Ellen beamed at them and waved them towards their regular table.

“Please, spare me,” Gabe scoffed. “As if anyone you’re interested in is going to expect you to hang out with people who _behave_.”

Dean shot Charlie a wicked smile. “He ain’t wrong.”

“Compared to the olden days, we’re positively tame and it suits me fine.”

“She’s right. Domestication suits you,” Sam smirked at Gabriel.

“I’ll show you how domestic…”

“Alright, evening and a Happy Newyear already, because I have no idea where I’ll be at midnight,” Jo cut through Gabe’s words. “What’ll it be tonight, sweethearts?”

“All your best stuff, all night long,” Dean said. “How does that sound?”

“Sounds like the only sensible order for this night,” Jo winked.

*

Dean wasn’t sure who convinced him into it (either Gabe or his own unreliable brain), but somewhere along the night, karaoke seemed like the best plan ever. He wandered onto the stage with an equally happy drunken Charlie, and they crooned a ballad to Dorothy.

Then he dragged Jo into a Frozen song. She played along, until she didn’t and pushed him in the face with her palm. He pretended to be heartbroken and Jo pecked a kiss on his cheek to loud hooting of the crowd. Wiggling to the Disney magic, putting Elsa to shame, Dean sang as Jo escaped.

Despite his slightly slurred singing, the crowd cheered him on after he finished. Giving it some thought, Dean zoned in on a song fit for this night.

“Alright, alright, one more,” he smiled, waving a hand at them to calm down, as he instructed the DJ with a dramatic behind-the-hand-whisper.

The familiar tune picked up and its effect on The Bunker’s clientele was instant. Like a collective sigh went through them, he now held their attention fully. Some hollering from his own table had him glaring fondly, as he found them gesturing and smiling at him, Gabe’s arms wide above his head in enthusiasm. Charlie was entwined with Dorothy in one chair, so that ballad worked wonders. Sam carded both fingers through his hair, cheeks aglow even from this distance.

“Perfect timing, Dean!”

It took him a second to realise what Sam meant, but then he smiled wide, when he sang The Bunker into the new year to the tunes of _Auld Lang Syne_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A small snippet for NYE for Dean and his chosen family.
> 
> Next installment is on January 2nd.
> 
> Happy New Year's Eve to you all. May you ring in the new year with only the right people and if you find yourself in not the ideal company, you're not alone. Know you are loved, even by people you might not be aware of.
> 
> Love,  
> Mal


	5. January 2nd, 2020

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam snorted a laugh. “Excuse me, what?”
> 
> “He’s hot. But not my type.” He lifted a finger, which was about all he could lift right now, and wagged it.
> 
> “Neither here nor there for the matter at hand, is it?”

**Thursday, January 2** **nd** **2020**

At the end of lesson one, he’d suffered through three bouts of nausea, sadly none of which had gone by unnoticed. Likely New Year’s Eve hadn’t fully left his system yet. They’d drunk way too much, something he decided on the 1 st of January was a bad idea for someone fighting a burn-out. Because the come-down was decidedly harsher than he was used to. It was  _ not  _ his age, as Charlie suggested.

Dean had in fact not been able to move from his spot on the floor where he’d collapsed after the cooldown, let alone leave the room for a good ten minutes, potentially more, splayed out like an asthmatic starfish. Long enough for the rest of the actual athletic people to go about normal business, a.k.a. shower and leave, whereas Dean found himself lying on his back, eyes closed, focusing hard on keeping his stomach content down and telling his heart it really did belong on the  _ inside _ of his chest. He did the math comparing his current heart rate to his resting one and decided it was a miracle he was still alive.

Conclusion: burgers before class, bad.

A gentle throat-clearing drew his attention and when he opened his eyes, he was met with an inverted gym instructor leaning over him at what looked like a perfect 90 degree angle, hands clasped behind his back, his face the picture of amused concern. The sound, cutting through the rush of we-are-having-a-stroke-heartbeat, changed to Castiel gently humming something that lilted up like a question. Blinking and thoroughly confused, Dean mirrored the tilt of his head, taking in the view, most of all those bright blue eyes, as he willed his breathing to slow down. Not working.

Alright, so the guy was  _ really _ hot, even if he wasn’t his type, and out of nowhere Dean became acutely self-conscious. Of the massive sweat stains under his armpits. Of how he’d likely made a complete fool of himself. Of the shape he was in. General consensus: pear.

He groaned. “I know I’m a disgrace, man, don’t give me that look.”

Dark eyebrows shot up, in something Dean could only interpret as judgment.

“Now I know my face isn’t doing anything that merits that response.”

Annoyed, Dean grimaced and rolled onto his side to push himself up, ignoring his protesting body, and watched Castiel rise to his full length as they stood facing each other. Dean kept his eyes down, as he dusted off his clothes.

“No, but I know I’m a disgrace. Sorry to have kept you waiting.”

He chanced a quick glance and pursed his lips, eyes widening. Why did the guy look like a kicked kitten?

“Don’t worry about that. See you Tuesday?” Castiel’s voice dipped into something softer, as Dean walked off on decidedly more wobbly legs than he liked.

Dean looked over his shoulder, a shy glance aimed at Castiel, standing in his peripheral. “Yeah, sure.”

He wasn’t sure if he’d been lying.

*

**Thursday, January 2** **nd** **2020**

Sam was in his kitchen, in the process of making his evening tea, when Dean stumbled inside.

“So how was it?”

“Don’t talk to me,” Dean growled. “I am only here, because you insisted on seeing me in this miserable state. Proof of death by work-out.”

He dumped his duffel in the hallway to the bathroom and slumped into one of the bar stools at Sam’s kitchen island.

“Oh, jeez, why can’t you have normal chairs like normal people? Everything hurts enough already,” he complained, resting a cheek on the pleasantly warm counter. “I almost threw up my burgers.”

“Well, boohoo, princess,” Sam scoffed, in an eerily good impression of Uncle Bobby. “Burgers, plural, before a high intensity interval training? I guess you gotta try everything once.”

“You could have warned me.”

“Pretty sure I’ve mentioned something of the sort over the years.”

“Dude, if it’s sports-related, I tune you out.”

“Shows what you know. I look forward to seeing your progress,” Sam smirked. “So how’s the teacher?”

Dean had decided on a different location than the one where Sam did most of his hours, mainly because he didn’t want to make an ass of himself in front of his baby brother. Made sense for Sam to be curious.

“Hot.”

_ Really now, Winchester. _

Sam snorted a laugh. “Excuse me, what?”

“He’s hot. But not my type.” He lifted a finger, which was about all he could lift right now, and wagged it.

“Neither here nor there for the matter at hand, is it?”

He tilted his head across the counter, chin pushing into the smooth surface, so he could look at Sam. “He busted my ass, Sam, what more do you want?”

Sam smirked as he blew into his cup of tea. “When you put it that way, not much. I take it you’re going back then?”

“Blow me,” Dean huffed. Sam knew him too well. “This was a near death experience. I’m pretty sure I was looking down on my own body at one point.”

“Yeah, but teacher’s hot. Motivation is an important factor of any work-out.” He paused, giving a small shake of his head.

“Even if he were my type, I don’t know if he’s gay.”

“I can tell he’s not your type. You’re not giving it any thought. It certainly sounds like he’s not your type. At all.”

“Shut up, Sammy.”

Sam’s tone was sugary sweet, like some of Gabe’s favourite treats. “Tea?”

“Uuuuugh.”

Sam poured him a steaming cup either way, sliding it across the counter. “You’re welcome to sleep over, if you’re too beat after the shower.”

Dean closed his hand around the warm mug, letting it seep into his skin. “I’m not even sure I’ll make it to your bathroom, let alone down another flight of stairs. You made me walk an extra flight of stairs, Sam.”

“Night, jerk.”

“Night, bitch.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next installment will be on January 7th!
> 
> We're building up a touch slow for this one. Chapters will get increasingly longer ^^
> 
> If you're here for the ride, thank you for joining!
> 
> Much love,  
> Mal


	6. January 7th, 2020

**Tuesday, January 7** **th** **2020**

Dean surprised himself and Sam when he did in fact go back on Tuesday. He wasn’t sure if he was a masochist or a sucker. Likely both.

Lesson two brought on only two bouts of nausea, both less intense and shorter. He managed to swallow the worst of it down, the saliva in the back of his throat not tasting like burgers this time around. Sam had come over and cooked him ‘a sensible meal’, because although Dean was an excellent cook, none of his go-to’s were ‘sensible’ before a work-out. 

Sadly, this meant that halfway through the class, Dean’s stomach started growling, because dinner had been the equivalent of what he’d use to stop a cavity. Also meant Sam and Castiel would probably get along. And why did that thought pop up?

The music tuned out the worst of his gut’s noise, but was its own brand of torture. Another reason he tended to avoid gyms like the plague. Their taste in music made his hackles rise. Interestingly, he was not the only one decidedly not into it. Dean caught Castiel rolling his eyes at the speakers several times, when he thought no one saw.

Which normally would have been the case, but Dean was being a brat and couldn’t resist getting in a good look on the regular. For being stuck in one of the seven levels of gym Hell, Dean took a surprising amount of comfort in the view of the man, bending himself in all possible ways at the front of the class. Solid, broad shoulders; thighs that could crush a skull; a gravelly voice, which, no, was not soothing. And then there was the care he took with his students.

Dean had zero experience with HIIT training and gyms in general. Well, apart from an extremely short-lived try-out at Sam’s behest  _ years  _ ago. The whole set-up didn’t work for him, but here and now… Castiel’s presence was going a long way towards remedying some of it into bearable. He obviously took pride in his job. Paid attention to each of them individually, in ways Dean wasn’t used to, his academic career being what it was. Yes, a doctor, but he’d met some assholes along the way, several of which had almost derailed his plans, when he’d waltzed in on a scholarship in his ratty outfit.

“Careful how you hold your upper body,” Castiel said. His fingers hovered just over Dean’s shirt, but he swore he could feel it. “You might…”

“Pull something? Yeah,” Dean huffed through a smile. “I got the feeling.” He wiped at his brow and put his hands on his hips, keen on the breather.

Castiel returned a soft smile. “Try to listen to the signals your body gives you. Don’t push beyond the limits.”

Dean scoffed his shoes into the floor. “I… Uhh, sure, I’ll try.”

A gentle curious squint seemed to physically prod him to clarify.

“Haven’t listened in a while.”

“Ahh.” Castiel nodded as if that meant anything to him. “Sometimes it takes a while before you remember how to listen.”

Cryptic. But the kindness in those blue eyes as he spoke sort of short-circuited any cynical thought Dean might come up with in the face of it.

An odd sense of loss came over him when Castiel moved on to the next student sooner than Dean liked. There was something about him up close and personal. Maybe he’d misjudged the expression in his face the first time around. They certainly had trouble breaking eye-contact more often than not, while Castiel gently helped him through exercises that had him questioning the reach of his body. His touches were light, almost clinical like Dean’s could be at work, except they tingled and left a ghost print wherever he touched his skin.

By the end of this lesson, the cooldown took longer. A blessing, which did Dean favours he only became aware of over the course of the next few days, when his muscles were screaming at him at a slightly lower frequency than the first time around. He was grateful to Cas when Sam explained it to him.

(Mentally speaking, as far as Dean could tell, there wasn’t much improvement, but Sam assured him that with his level of sloth and the burn-out current he was swimming against, it would take a while for the effects to kick in.)

“You seem to be doing better,” Castiel smiled, as he walked through the dispersing group of students.

No gaggle of flirting women tonight, it seemed, and Dean didn’t know why his heart skipped a beat at being singled out.

“You are so optimistic,” Dean scoffed, but returned the smile. It was hard not to. “But thanks, I guess.”

“It’s a process,” Castiel assured him. He sounded like he meant it, which was more of a balm than Dean expected. “You ran out of water?”

Dean ducked his head. “I… uhh, yeah. I got hungry halfway through, so I drank it.”

Castiel squinted at him and, weighing the bottle he was holding in his hand, seemed to think it over. He flipped it on the flat of his palm, as he handed it over.

“Here. We sweat a lot today.”

Surprised, Dean took the bottle before his brain had the time to reconsider. Their fingers brushed together and to distract himself, Dean looked at the label as if it was the most interesting thing he’d read in his life.

“Really?” Dean muttered. “Wouldn’t know it by the looks of you.”

He wasn’t sure if Castiel heard, but if he did, he didn’t let on. 

The label was home-made and the abbreviations, written in blue marker, were meaningless to him, except for the date. When Dean shot him a suspicious glance, Castiel’s mouth crooked up on one side, a dimple showing, and with a huff, Dean unscrewed the bottle to take a tentative sip.

Food being one of his weaknesses, there were precious few times when Dean’s instant response to something palatable wasn’t, well… loud. So too, today.

He groaned when the liquid hit his tongue and slid down his throat, quenching a thirst he’d valiantly been ignoring. Castiel laughed, his shoulders moving with the emotion, as he shifted his weight sideways, eyes skittering away from Dean and back. Dean gulped down half the bottle, before he was forced to come back up for air.

He wiped his hand over his mouth. “Oh, hell… What is this stuff?”

Eager, Castiel started ticking things off on his fingers. “A home recipe. An herbal tea mixture of raspberry and nettle, some added salt, calcium and magnesium, and apple juice for extra flavour.”

Dean hummed into the bottle to signal he was listening, as he drank down the second half and stared at it,  _ not _ pouting when it was all gone.

Castiel smiled, his eyes caught on Dean’s lips, visibly pleased with himself. “Oh, and a spoon of honey to top it off.”

Whatever Dean’s face was doing, it made Castiel laugh anew, his eyes lighting up. Dean tried not to stare or pay the flip-flop in his chest much heed, but was quite sure he failed. He took a deep breath, slightly oxygen deprived.

“It’s insanely good. Sammy would love this.”

“Sammy?”

“My brother,” Dean smiled. “Bit of a health nut. Works out like a maniac. He’s the one who got me these classes.”

“A health nut, huh?”

Dean pressed the tip of his tongue into his canine, swiping it across his teeth, loving the upturn in the one dark eyebrow and the slight cockiness in the way Castiel tilted his hips.

“Kinda, I mean, in a good way, I guess?”

“Hmm,” Cas hummed.

And suddenly he was rambling, cause he realised he might have insulted one of Sam’s fellow health nuts.

“I mean, the food he makes is good, it’s just… I don’t… I cook a lot too, or used to anyway, but just… not as healthy. Mostly because the stuff Sammy gets is so damned expensive and complicated and… some of it is real snooty too.”

He couldn’t tell if Castiel was joking next. “Oh, really? I had no idea.”

“It is. How is it sensible to add those… whatyacall’em…  _ goji berries _ to your breakfast, if it means they’ve been flown across the planet and are worse for the environment than the local berries? I mean, granted, I drive a guzzler, so maybe I shouldn’t talk…”

Dean shut his mouth so hard, he bit down on his lip and cursed.

Castiel chuckled. “You alright?”

“Yeah, just… I… Shit, I’m sorry if that insulted you.”

“Which part?”

“Any and all of it? I’m more of a burgers, fries, beer type of guy. And you kept staring at me…”

“And what’s wrong with that?”

“You staring?”

Castiel blinked a few times. “Burgers, fries and beer, Dean. Local produce.”

Damn, his name from those lips should not sound that appealing.

“I dunno… To me, nothing.”

“To me neither,” Castiel shrugged. “It’s a very valid argument, one people often overlook when buying ‘trendy’ food.”

Air quotes. Who the hell still made air quotes?

“Good food comes in many forms, just like work-outs.”

Dean’s face softened into a stupid smile, whether at the air quotes or relief he hadn’t insulted Castiel, he didn’t know. “I guess so.”

“I can bring a few recipes, if you like. If you enjoy cooking and want to try something else like that or get back into it, I mean.” He gestured at the empty bottle in Dean’s hands.

Dean furrowed his brow.

Soft. Cute. Nononono, not cute.

Not his type.

It took another few ticks of the clock before he realised a reply was in order and he was very much supposed to leave, as they were the last ones left.

“I’d like that. Thanks,” Dean nodded.

He wiped the lid, recapped the bottle and handed it back to Castiel.

“Welcome,” Castiel nodded. “And thank your brother for me.”

“Why?”

Castiel’s eyebrows shot up at that and a soft fluster crept up his neck. The way it unravelled some of his panache worked wonders for Dean. His voice was soft when he spoke. “For taking such care of his brother’s health?”

“Oh…” Dean stumbled through the emotions that somehow got triggered. “Sure. I, uhh, I will. Night, Cas.”

When did he decide on using the nickname?

“Good night, Dean.”

Dean almost ran into the door on his way out, trying to do a balancing act between keeping his cool and stealing another glance at Castiel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're getting into the thick of it somewhat more *smiles* and the next installment is for tomorrow!
> 
> If you stopped by here, thank you. Feel free to leave kudos/comments, as they work wonders for us writers.
> 
> Hope the new year treats you well. If not, I hope this story can distract you for a brief while.
> 
> Love,  
> Mal


	7. January 8th, 2020

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean underwent the cuddle and pecked her on the forehead in apology, when he disengaged. “Damn straight. Burgers and pie.”
> 
> “You haven’t cooked like this in… how long? Praise be.”

**Wednesday, January 8** **th** **2020**

“What are you doing?” Charlie asked.

“Making tea. Or trying to.”

She hopped up to park her ass on his counter, sidling up annoyingly close.

“Give the cook some space.”

“But I gotta love on the cook,” she said, as she forcibly hugged him. “It smells delish.”

Dean underwent the cuddle and pecked her on the forehead in apology, when he disengaged. “Damn straight. Burgers and pie.”

“You haven’t cooked like this in… how long? Praise be.”

“A while,” Dean amended. “You’re welcome.”

“So what’s with the tea?”

“Just… an experiment.”

That was failing, Dean mused, as he sipped the different versions he’d made. None of them matched what he’d remembered from Castiel’s recipe.

“Give it a taste, will ya?”

Charlie sniffed the contents, before taking a sip from each, grimacing at the second one. “Ick, too sour. I like the sweetness on that one.”

“It ain’t right though.”

“Well, what am I comparing it to?”

“Nothing you’d know,” he shrugged.

Charlie looked at him, nodding sagely, as if she understood something he didn’t.

“Hungry?” he asked.

“Starving. Feed me already.”

“I shall, my lady. Oh, remind me to give Sam their PrEP prescriptions, by the way. I keep forgetting. They’re on the fridge.”

“Can do. I’ll put it on the table.”

Charlie made a pleased ‘ah’ sound, as she hopped off the counter and headed over to the fridge. It took her a second to locate it between everything else stuck to its front, from a myriad of proof-of-travel-magnets to his calendar to a hopelessly outdated Sam and Gabe-schedule to cards and drawings. As she pried the prescription from under the magnet, a napkin that had been held aloft underneath it fell to the floor.

She snickered, as she picked it up. “I had no idea you kept that Valentine’s drawing of your brother and his sass on legs.”

“What are you talking about? They’re adorable in their chonky chibiness.”

“That, they are, but man, what was I on?”

“As I recall a fair amount of weed.”

His thoughts skittered to Castiel next and Dean tilted his head at the food, brow furrowed in mild confusion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A shorter chapter to show some of the subtle influence Cas is already having on Dean. I wanted to explore the little things a touch. Tomorrow is the next installment!
> 
> For those wondering, "TRUVADA for PrEP is a once-daily prescription medicine that can help reduce the risk of getting HIV-1 through sex, when taken every day and used together with safer sex practices", taken straight from their website.
> 
> If you're on this journey with us, thanks for joining! Kudos and comments are welcome, as always.
> 
> Love,  
> Mal


	8. January 9th, 2020

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Dean… You’re hurt. May I?”
> 
> “You could probably manhandle me into the wall at this point and I wouldn’t be able to do anything about it.”

**Thursday, January 9** **th** **2020**

Lesson three.

No nausea. Dean managed to keep up with all the exercises, which was a feat in itself, but he also felt something pop in his back and shoulder, that really shouldn’t have. He pushed through the pain, ignoring it. No, he was  _ not  _ trying to prove something.

By the end of class, whatever he had done registered as an intense throbbing pain, spreading from his lower back to his shoulder, and keeping him locked in place, bent like a gnarly stick. Dean winced throughout the cooldown and forewent the last part, trying to find a position, any position that didn’t send a cutting pain dancing across his nerves. He tried to remember some of the anatomy stuff from uni, but he’d never gotten into much of the holistic approach. As a surgeon, his strengths lay decidedly elsewhere, all for the benefit of others.

He breathed deep, while everyone was cut loose. With mild dread, he watched Castiel walk over, all lean muscles and ease, a bottle of wholesome juice in his hand. Not even out of breath. Dean followed the movement in his throat with interest, while he drank, successfully distracting him from the pain. Castiel’s dark hair was a hot mess, a sheen of sweat making Dean want to lick him just to get a response other than collected strength and flawless control.

_ What the fuck, Winchester _ .

Not. Your. Type.

But, then again, what was a type really? Other than a guideline.

“Dean? Are you alright?”

That voice. Dean was grateful he was already resting his hands on his knees, trying to roll his shoulder. Something was unquestionably stuck and it hurt like a motherfucker. He shot Cas the most convincing smile he could muster.

“Heya, Cas. I, yeah, I’m fine. I just… need to take a knee for a second. This is the most exercise I’ve gotten in my life. This past week…”

Mirth made those impossible blues crinkle and twinkle in ways that belonged on an animal sidekick in a Disney movie. (What? He and Charlie were suckers for Disney.) It had Dean smiling through his laborious breathing. Once again and despite having managed better than before, even under Castiel’s kind eyes, Dean felt like a disgrace and hated it. This time, Castiel didn’t seem to judge him for it though, as amusement shifted to concern and he reached out.

“Dean… You’re hurt. May I?”

“You could probably manhandle me into the wall at this point and I wouldn’t be able to do anything about it.”

Castiel tilted his head in confusion and something else that Dean couldn’t quite pinpoint. He figured it missed the mark. Which was just as well.

He waved a tired hand, wincing at the careless gesture. “Motherf… Go ahead.”

Two warm, dry hands tentatively touched the back of his biceps, sending an electric current down to his fingertips, even through the fabric. Dean flexed his hands on instinct, trying to be subtle about the effects it had and mutely lamented their absence when Castiel’s hands moved away to rest between his shoulder blades. It was interesting in several kinds of ways, so when Castiel asked him a question, his brain was slow on the uptake.

“So why the change of heart?”

“Huh?”

“Why the effort to get moving, if you haven’t been doing it a lot?”

_ Lie! _

_ No, duh, really? _

“That’s a massive understatement. Uhh… I needed a change of pace?”

“Are you telling me or asking me?”

The gentle teasing tone ought to annoy him, as should this healthy demi-god of a human, who probably had all his ducks in a row. And his squirrels. And his… eyes? 

What?

Dean hurried to provide an answer.

“I don’t know, man. This is all well outside my comfort zone and every second of it has me questioning my sanity. That freakin’ adrenaline rush people go on and on about?”

Humming with interest, Castiel leaned over Dean’s shoulder and shot him a ‘ _ keep going _ ’ look. The pressure on his muscles was gentle. Dean wanted to close his eyes and give into the sensations.

“Not for me. Completely elusive,” Dean shook his head. “It doesn’t hit. All I want to do is throw myself off a cliff to make it stop.”

“That seems a bit excessive.”

He chuckled. “I don’t do anything half-assed.”

“At the expense of your body,” Castiel said.

Dean made to protest and clarify just why he worked as hard as he did, when Castiel’s hands found a knot between his shoulder blades and, without mercy,  _ kneaded _ . The pain instant and sharp, Dean arched up and  _ into  _ those hands, because even if it hurt, he wanted more… An unholy sound spilled from his lips, when Castiel worked that knot in earnest and Dean put out his hands against the wall for support. Behind him, he heard Castiel clearing his throat. His body felt like a furnace and he couldn’t quite keep up with what had him in this state.

“Holy shit…” Dean breathed out hotly.

“Better?”

“Different, for sure,” he hissed, as he gingerly moved his shoulders. “Thanks. I, uhh, I guess I’ll see you Thursday.”

Castiel stepped back and Dean had to look twice, wondering if he was imagining the faint dusting of pink on his cheekbones. He couldn’t be sure and had to get out of there.

“Ah, yes,” Castiel hummed, rubbing his fingers together, as if nervous. “Just…”

“Yeah?”

He found Dean’s eyes. “You… You’re in knots. All of you, so just a suggestion. Take a long, warm bath or shower and go to bed early. Today’s going to hit you hard if you’re not used to it.”

Dean hated it when people told him what to do. True to form, something reared its head, but he clamped down on it when registering the genuine care in Castiel’s voice and seeing the cute awkwardness. ( _ Cute? Yes, cute. Fuck off! _ ) He still needed to get out of here, so Cas could go home. He ought to stop delaying the man, which he seemed to have been doing from the get-go.

Dean nodded and made to turn away.

“Oh, Dean, wait!”

“Huh?” 

_ Did he have a patent on the sound? _

“The recipes.”

“Oh! Yes!”

He watched Castiel trot to his bag at the front of the class, digging through it with vigour the way he’d seen a squirrel in a pile of leaves in the park yesterday, bushy tail sticking out. When he jogged back over, he handed over a tote bag with several books.

“What the hell… Just a few recipes?”

Castiel shrugged. “The ones I use most I know by heart. They’ll probably serve more purpose in your hands now.”

“I’ll get them back to you. The bag too.”

“Feel free to hold on to them as long as you want.”

“Thanks, man. I appreciate it.”

As he turned, Dean thrust his chin over his shoulder, using both arms to hold onto the bag.

“I’ll go soak and forget I ever made that sound.”

_ Because draw attention to that obscenity you’d let rip! _

Ducking his head, pointing as if he was going to add something else and thinking better of it, Dean managed to slink away, undoubtedly leaving a bemused Castiel behind who lamented this latest weirdo addition to his classes. He was out of there in record time, holding onto the bag like it was precious cargo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *rubs hands together happily* They're going to be doing this dance for a while.
> 
> Next installment is in two days, so on the 11th!
> 
> So clearly you're a Destiel fan or you wouldn't be here. If you're also on Discord and over 18, we have a server full of like-minded souls. We're all weird and good fun to boot! Come find us at the [Profound Bond Discord Server](http://discord.profoundbond.net/).
> 
> Happy to meet you there! Happy to have you here!
> 
> Love,  
> Mal


	9. January 11th, 2020

**Saturday, January 11** **th** **2020**

Dean went over to Sam’s on Saturday for dinner at The Bunker with Gabriel and Charlie.

“You must be the only person I know that doesn’t get runner’s high,” Charlie said.

“You make it sound like you’ve tried.”

“Nope.” Charlie shook her head cheerily. “But that doesn’t stop others from telling me it exists and I should give it a try.”

“Regardless of runner’s high, maybe…” Sam scrunched up his nose at the attitude around the table.

“Dude, you think I’d have stuck to my non-existent regime if I hadn’t done the experiments? Try everything twice. Except dumb-ass stuff like that.”

“Stealing my lines, Dean-o.”

Sam shot Dean a pursed, sassy look that questioned everything about what he’d just said. “Everything that threatens to kill you, maybe. Both of you, might I add.”

He flicked a finger at Gabriel. Between him and Dean, they held some of the worst habits of the group.

Gabriel squinted a pleased smile at Sam. “It’s why we get along so well, your brother and I.”

“Hmm,” Sam amended.

“You love me, Samshine.”

Sam huffed through a warm smile. “You’re a living nightmare, Gabe.”

“Ahh, young love.” Dean snorted and got the Tupperware box out of his backpack. “I tried out one of Cas’ recipes.”

He opened up the box and slid it to the middle where everyone could reach. It took Gabe all of one second to throw himself across the table and inhale the scent of freshly baked cookies. Before anyone could, he grabbed one and bit into it.

“CaF?” Gabriel asked around a moany mouthful.

“His gym instructor, who is so not his type,” Charlie smiled, as she plucked a cookie out of the box and waved it as she spoke. “Who also gave him a stack of cookbooks and as far as we can tell basically tucked Dean under his shoulder-tattoo-wings.”

Dean couldn’t help but smirk at the image that called up. 

“Oooh, these are so gooey. Amazing!”

But he didn’t take the bait. His brain agreed. Cas wasn’t. He was hot. And kind. And helpful in ways Dean hadn’t expected. Not his type.

One blissfully dumbass moment, he’d contemplated a thought, a daydream, a fluke, which had evaporated as quickly as it had formed. Castiel would probably nag Dean to death once his old ways settled back in as Dean knew they would. They always did. With a schedule like his and the priorities the job demanded, who could blame him? (His therapist, for one.)

Unless, through some miracle, he managed to keep this up for 8 weeks and break in a new habit. A good one, God forbid.

So why did he keep thinking about Cas?

He caught the exchange between Sam, Gabe and Charlie, and grimaced at the three of them.

“When do we need to be at The Bunker?”

“By seven, so we gotta go soon.”

Dean nodded and shoved an oatmeal cookie in, earning another round of raised eyebrows from his surroundings.

“Wha’?” he mouthed around it. “They go’ Focolate FipF a’ honey.”

“And oats. You hate oats.”

Chewing it for a bit, Dean swallowed, a touch sheepish and grabbed another one for the road, alongside Baby’s keys. “Guess it depends on the recipe?”

“Or the source,” Gabriel winked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's all in the little things, isn't it?
> 
> I'm trying to keep matters relatively simple while we're outside the gym, though the boys will get in some of the thick of it once they start talking more.
> 
> Next installment is for January 14th!
> 
> So clearly you're a Destiel fan or you wouldn't be here. If you're also on Discord and over 18, we have a server full of like-minded souls. We're all weird and good fun to boot! Come find us at the [Profound Bond Discord Server](http://discord.profoundbond.net/).
> 
> Happy to meet you there! Happy to have you here!
> 
> Wishing you all a lovely weekend. Thanks for dropping <3
> 
> Love,  
> Mal


	10. January 14th, 2020

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I think you picked the wrong activity.”
> 
> “Huh?” Maybe he ought to get it on a t-shirt.
> 
> “I don’t think high intensity interval training is the right fit for you.”

**Tuesday, January 14** **th** **2020**

Today.

Lesson four confirmed that he’d done damage to his shoulder and/or back. Dean clenched his teeth and tried to hide it, but within fifteen minutes, he was working up a worse sweat than usual, his muscles shaking under the strain of the exercise. During one of his first rounds, he saw Castiel’s eyes flicker in understanding. Effortless. Something that didn’t make him feel special at all . Nu-uh. The next second, Castiel changed up the routine and split the group in pairs, with a repeat of exercises they’d learned during the previous sessions.

He zoned in on Dean, who was breathing too hard and intensely aware of it.

There was something about the way he pointed at Dean, singling him out wordlessly, and made the ‘ _park your ass_ ’ sign at him that made his blood flow faster. Dean wanted to put some swagger behind it, as he obliged, but the pain was too much. He came to a halt, tightening his fist, and suddenly found Castiel in his personal space, almost chest to chest.

“Your shoulder is bothering you.”

A quick glance, which Dean recognised as clinical in nature, skittered across Dean’s body. “And your back.”

Voice tighter than usual, they were statements rather than questions. Accompanied by an intense searching gaze, Dean felt wholly out of place. Still, he gave a curt nod, putting his hand to said shoulder, trying to roll it.

“Don’t.”

“Why not?”

“All you’re doing is straining it. Come here. Please.”

The last word was tacked on and Dean got the feeling there was an authority to Castiel he wasn’t entirely immune to. That aspect of himself, he knew quite well… he just hadn’t expected to pick the vibe up from Cas.

“I don’t think we can get much closer,” he said on an exhale, all too cognizant of Cas’ proximity.

Castiel’s lips pursed and he drew a tiny circle in the air, finger pointing down, for Dean to turn around. More than not immune, he mused, because he obeyed Cas’ request quite smoothly and eased into his tugs and pulls, as he got Dean into various positions, focused on his back and shoulders. All of them were slow and languid, stretching him beyond his edges. Something needed to pop and Dean let out a pained, slow moan, when it just wouldn’t…

He hissed. “What’s this? Using your magic hands on me?”

Until it suddenly gave and painfully so. For the tiniest bit and shot back into the wrong place.

Castiel chuckled, the sound a lot closer to his ear than Dean expected, but it turned a touch frustrated. “Well, I have an idea… Cause this isn’t working.”

Dean’s brain was all too interested in what kind of ideas Cas had in mind. His voice dipped to the huskier side of regular. “Such as?”

Castiel didn’t miss a beat, but clearly missed Dean’s shift in tone. “I think you picked the wrong activity.”

“Huh?” Maybe he ought to get it on a t-shirt.

“I don’t think high intensity interval training is the right fit for you.”

That sent him on an unexpected rollercoaster ride. Dean looked away to hide his disappointment. The idea of Castiel removing him from his class blind-sided him. Just when he thought he was getting into it, he’d get sent away. His voice was constricted when he spoke and his muscles tensed with it.

“Why’s that?”

Castiel’s hands on him stilled for a second. “From what I’ve seen, I think you’d benefit more from a kinder approach and I’d recommend yoga.”

He scoffed. “Yoga? Seriously? That slow, bendy stuff?”

Dean _heard_ the eye roll in Castiel’s voice. “Yes, Dean. That slow, bendy stuff, that won’t have you waiting for a runner’s high and that will be a lot kinder on both your body and your head.”

“My head’s fine.”

“I’m sure it is.”

When did that turn dirty? Or was that just him? It was probably just him.

“I swear, some of you supposed medical experts wouldn’t know what’s good for you if it bites you in the ass.”

Dean ought to feel insulted. But part of him knew Cas was right and another part of him was very much distracted by how his head was and something or someone biting him in the…

“It wouldn’t be a problem. You can just switch to my other class.”

That needed a few ticks to sink in.

“Wait, you’re teaching that too?”

He heard the smile in Castiel’s voice “Of course.”

“Uhuh, _of course_.”

“You thought I was kicking you out of my class.”

Again a statement and Dean shivered at the ease with which Cas seemed to read him. He cast a quick glance at his face.

“For a second there, yeah. Which I wouldn’t blame you for. Who wants the disaster in their class, right?”

Castiel frowned at him, eyes narrowed, as if Dean had just insulted him. And looking at it from a certain perspective, he kinda might have.

“Look, I know I’m not doing too great. Messed up my shoulder within the second week and …”

“Dean, stop talking,” Castiel said.

Yeah, like that ever worked on him.

“Make me.”

There followed something low and muttered, which sounded suspiciously like Cas wanted to take him up on that taunt.

The mere suggestion shut Dean up. Instantly. He wondered if he’d misheard. But Castiel averted his eyes, feigning deep focus on his shoulder.

“At least stop talking about yourself that way.”

Dean’s voice was a touch hoarse, because the things that shut up his inner brat for any length of time were few and far between. “Not likely.”

A tighter hold on his arm and shoulder blade suggested Cas got annoyed. The tone in which he spoke confirmed it.

“Unfortunate. We’ll have to remedy that.”

“Dude, that sounds like a threat. I doubt that’s the company policy…”

“I’m not overly concerned with company policy.”

Dean chuckled through a wince. “You’d get along stellar with Sammy. And me, come to think of it.”

“I am, however, concerned with people injuring themselves during my class. You didn’t mess up. It’s just… I am concerned about y…”

He seemed to catch himself and pressed down on Dean’s shoulder, hard enough it felt like a handprint would remain. Dean cast a quick glance at him through his lashes, only to find Cas very much looking at him. His focus shifted in rapid succession, from the concern in his eyes to the furrowed eyebrows and the curves of his moving lips, and Dean felt so deeply confused at why all of this made something flutter in his chest. Castiel tilted his head, seemingly as bemused or confused as Dean felt. One could hope.

His braining skills slipped out of his grasp.

“Would you be willing to give it a shot? You’ll feel better, I promise.”

A promise from those lips sounded like... more than it ought to.

_Give what a shot exactly?_

“Dude, are you sure about this? I am like as flexible as oak…”

Castiel just looked at him expectantly.

“Uhm, sure?” Dean said, uncertain what he was getting himself into, but if it involved time spent with Cas, it was fine.

Sure thing.

Not his type. But sure thing.

Maybe he was beginning to worry more about Dean not being Cas’ type.

“Excellent,” Castiel beamed a smile at him, conveying relief and warmth, which had Dean’s heart perform a magic trick he’d never experienced before. “Let me get you the information. And insurance papers, just in case.”

Dean nodded, dumb-founded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A busy week here, which is entirely down to my own stupidity and some bad coinciding of social tricks. My introvert doth protest.
> 
> Next installment on Saturday, the 18th! You are also exactly one month away from Valentine's Day. Just FYI, because for this fic, that day's important. ^^
> 
> So clearly you're a Destiel fan or you wouldn't be here. If you're also on Discord and over 18, we have a server full of like-minded souls. We're all weird and good fun to boot! Come find us at the [Profound Bond Discord Server](http://discord.profoundbond.net/).
> 
> Happy to meet you there! Happy to have you here!
> 
> Thanks for joining. Kudos and comments feed my introvert to keep going.
> 
> Love,  
> Mal


	11. January 18th, 2020

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He missed Cas.
> 
> More than he expected.
> 
> Which blind-sided him completely.

**Saturday, January 18** **th** **2020**

The switch to yoga had entailed he could dodge the next HIIT class on Thursday. Partly because Cas ordered him to, in the hopes of sparing his injury. Dean hadn’t minded initially. A break was also important, right?

He hadn’t counted on the side-effect. 

The side-effect being that he experienced something he hadn’t in a while.

Rather raw, the pit in his stomach. The swirling in his chest.

He missed Cas.

More than he expected.

Which blind-sided him completely.

Debatably, his brother was there to distract him.

“Yoga?” Sam grinned. Huge, wide, goofy. 

He took the wet mug from Dean’s extended hand to dry it off. “Oatmeal cookies. Home-made herbal teas. Yoga. Who are you and what has Cas done to my brother?”

“Shut up, Sammy,” Dean huffed. “I’m drawing the line at that vegan book he gave. You can take it. Ain’t happening in the Meat Man’s household.”

Groaning at the terrible nickname, Sam gaped.

“You know, I figured it’d be good for you, but I never thought  _ this  _ was going to happen.”

“This? What do you mean,  _ this _ ?”

“You, actually enjoying yourself.”

Dean snorted and made a face at him. “Yeah, Cas can take credit for that one.”

“Excuse me? We’re the ones who got you out the door and into his orbit.”

His brother’s response was fast. Faster than Dean expected. He managed to dodge the incoming towelled rattail, laughing, as he sloshed water over the side of the sink and down the cupboard. Cursing, he dashed away. Sam shot after him in pursuit and Dean let out a bark of a laugh, escaping to the bathroom to get another towel from the hamper. He was at a severe disadvantage, having to use his left arm, and spare his shoulder and back.

If Sam noticed at all, he didn’t let up.

And it certainly didn’t stop them from running amok through his apartment, some of the whips sure to leave a bruise. Until Dean jumped into his arm chair and tilted it backwards onto its back, sending a jolt through the floor. It was less than a minute until his beloved downstairs neighbour was banging down his door.

“Winchesters! If there’s gonna be roughhousing, I want in!” Charlie yelled.

Dean opened the door, panting and smiling wide. “Come on, Bradbury, see if you can help me corner Sam.”

Charlie looked surprised to see him, as she searched the apartment, taking in the toppled chair and the general state of disarray.

“What’d he do?”

“Does it matter?”

“Yes!”

“He’s giving me a hard time…”

“Ha!” Charlie laughed. “Considering your gym teacher shenanigans of late, I want details. Sammmm!”

Sam popped up from behind the couch, looking for all the world like he was six years old. “Dean’s switching to yoga!”

“What? You’re bailing on Cas?”

“Nonono! It gets better,” Sam said, his two hands out, index and thumbs on both making ‘ _ get this _ ’ circles. “Cas is the one who suggested it.”

Charlie laughed. “That bad, huh?”

Dean made his ‘ _ har har _ ’ face at her. “Hilarious, Bradbury.”

“ _ And  _ the one teaching it!”

“Oooh,” Charlie sing-songed. “Teacher’s pet? That’s a first.”

He rolled his eyes at both of them. “No. He thinks it would be better for me. That it is better for my head.”

Charlie eyed Sam, like she had trouble believing what was going on, and poked a finger in his direction. “Is he for real?”

“Who?” Sam grinned. “Dean or Cas?”

“Either/or at this point, to be honest.”

“He’s just taking this seriously, okay? I pulled something in my back, shoulder, whatever. And that high intensity thing wasn’t doing me favours.”

“Tell me, do you see him treating everyone else the same way?”

Dean pouted, chewing his lower lip.

“And didn’t you say you are almost always the last one out the door?”

“Yeah, Dean,” Sam grinned. “Sounds like teacher’s pet to me.”

“Do I need to chase both of you around the apartment?” Dean growled, as he flicked his wrist, tightening his towel back into a rattail.

“You can try,” Sam grinned, tossing a wet towel to Charlie, who gave a squeal when Dean tried to land a snap on her thigh.

“Oh, ho, ho, here we go,” he grinned as he gave chase, glad for the distraction.  


And also, to be fair, this was the most fun he’d had in recent times. Aside time spent with Cas.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good news. Well, tentative good news. I'm going to try and add art for this fic, near the end of it (due to the specific idea I have in mind). Be patient with me there, as it's a recent endeavour, but one I am enjoying a lot.
> 
> Next installment is in two days on the 20th!
> 
> Kudos and comments welcome, as ever. Until then, I hope y'all enjoy this and are in a good space.
> 
> Love,  
> Mal


	12. January 20th, 2020

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So what are you gonna do about it?”
> 
> Castiel bent through his knees, all smoothness, his face closer to Dean’s as he smiled, eyes darker in the limited light, but Dean thought he saw them soften… Like he was satisfied with Dean just lying here?
> 
> “Not a damn thing, Dean.”

**Monday, January 20** **th** **2020**

Yoga required a lot more focus than Dean had expected. Mainly to slow himself down… He wanted to rush, push, and get his heartrate up. Goal-oriented. A staple in his life and a must at work. It took effort to go against that current, so he tried his hardest to slow it the fuck down… As softly as he could, Dean groaned, when he bent forward and learned that, no, he could not touch the mat. Or his toes. Or his ankles, even. His calves, which was it.

The giddiness he felt didn’t help. It was like a squirrel, high on caffeine, had taken residence in his chest and was juggling its chestnuts endlessly.

Ridiculous.

“Wherever you land is alright,” Castiel reminded him. A tune that had been on repeat throughout, albeit in various iterations, all equally reassuring, if not at times eye roll-inducing.

“Remember it isn’t about pushing too far, it’s about where you are at right now. Breathe deep and steady, and exhale everything.”

Some of what Cas said didn’t make much sense to Dean, as it sounded a bit too… new agey, but he went with the flow, as was apparently the general idea of yoga. He might be missing various points here.

“Lift your heart, chin up and reach for the skies. Feel that full body stretch.”

It was mostly Cas’ voice that did it. Whether he was picking up what he was supposed to Dean didn’t care much. He closed his eyes and followed the sound of Cas’ voice. He lost his balance a few times, unused to having his eyes closed.

There was a different timbre to Cas’ voice during yoga, which sidled up cosily to the music he had playing and the general vibe of this room, this class. A vibe that had gripped Dean tight the second he set foot inside, though he’d be hard-pressed to admit it out loud. Castiel’s voice took on an almost undulating, soothing, deeper tone, like he too felt more at ease here. The effects clouded Dean’s senses in the best possible way.

Despite being side-lined in one of the smaller classrooms the gym had on offer, which Dean guessed was to blame on the size of their group. And the fact that it was less flashy. The way Castiel had purposed every corner of it made up for that.

“Paddle some of the tension out of your hips here and when you’re ready, bend your knee and lift your leg backwards into three-legged dog and _hold_. Three, two one, and back to downward dog. Keep it gentle.”

Dean felt something pop in his hips and groaned in relief.

The yoga mats were soft and bouncy. The music, although not his genre, fit the occasion like a glove. The lighting was gentler than any of the other classrooms, which Dean discovered he was actually sensitive to. Who knew?

“Alright, from downward dog sink all the way down onto the mat and lift up on your arms into cobra. Squeeze your elbows to your ribs, _gently_. Get in that last good stretch and when you’re done, you can come around and settle into corpse pose.”

Dean couldn’t hold back the snicker at that. He glanced across the length of his arm to the front of the class and thought he saw Castiel looking up at him.

“Or starfish pose, as you please.” 

So he had heard. Dean flashed Cas a grin across the distance. He responded with a mock-stern eyebrow.

“Eyes closed for this last moment of sinking into your body. Check in with what it’s saying for a few minutes.” 

Dean obeyed, but was unable to stop smirking.

“Let your breathing get back to normal. Stay as long as you need.”

Okay, so that last bit seemed to sink into his bones. Dean let out a long sigh.

Conclusion. Yoga class was... something else entirely. He credited it to Cas, whose presence, warm-palmed corrections and voice carried most of the experience. Like sinking into the perfect warm bath, complete with scented oils and candles on the side.

It took until the end of class for the effects Castiel had promised him to come out of hiding. 

Dean sighed in wonder, when some of the quiet, tentative and quivering, settled in his head. It was short-lived, a mere glimpse, he supposed, of what could be. But it was there and it had him staring at the ceiling, splayed out in his starfish position, not asthmatic this time around. Or corpse position, apparently. Who came up with some of these names?

“So is this going to be a thing with you, Dean?”

Inverted Cas was back. Dean smiled at him, feeling more relaxed than he had in a long time. He wanted to hold onto it, so he didn’t rush to come up with a reply. Instead he studied Cas’ face, while doing so. His face was so evenly balanced, Dean mused, taking in the straight line of his nose, the wide flared shape of his nostrils, and the curves of his lips… They looked slightly dry, where they met in a perfect straight line. Outlined with a five o’clock shadow that looked casual, but was obviously maintained well. He wondered if they were in fact dry. He licked his lips, frowning slightly.

There were small crow’s feet between his brows and around his eyes, proof of how often he alternated his smile with his near-to-perma-squint. It was the softness in those eyes that had him drowning in them… and also made him realise he’d probably foregone the acceptable time frame for staring at one’s yoga teacher.

Dean blinked a few times, consciousness extending out to Cas once more. “Is _what_ going to be a thing?”

To Cas’ credit, he didn’t even bat an eye. “You star-fishing.”

Dean gave it some thought. He didn’t want to go. Not yet. Because home meant an empty apartment and likely the return of the evening blues. Which was an understatement in itself. The most pressing item on his ‘to do’ list was getting harder to ignore every day.

And no, said item wasn’t Cas.

Though now that he considered it… 

“You did say I could stay like this, as long as I needed.”

Castiel hummed, holding his position above Dean, audibly amused. Dean realised he really liked Cas humming. “Hm, I did say that.”

“So what are you gonna do about it?”

Castiel bent through his knees, all smoothness, his face closer to Dean’s as he smiled, eyes darker in the limited light, but Dean thought he saw them soften… Like he was satisfied with Dean just lying here?

“Not a damn thing, Dean.”

They held each other’s eyes for a long time. Dean splayed out, relaxed, Cas squatting at his head, his fingertips to the floor for balance, both seemingly content with the constellation. Dean wondered if he should say something, anything, but found he was too caught up in Cas and the moment.

*

 **Monday, January 20** **th** **2020**

Regretfully, Castiel had to do something about it in the end.

When the next instructor opened the door, Dean had shot bolt upright, then dodging sideways so as not to headbutt Cas. Cas hadn’t looked phased. Instead, he’d gazed over at the door like some cat on their proverbial perch, wondering who had the gall to disturb his peace. They’d gone about gathering up the yoga supplies, Dean carrying as much as he could. Cas’ hands were less full, but he didn’t mind as he held the door for Dean.

“I very much feel like the garbage lady from Labyrinth,” Dean said.

Cas chuckled, pointing the direction his car was parked. “As long as you don’t start going ‘hmmm’ in that voice at me, we’re good.”

Dean learned Cas drove a Lincoln Continental Mark V, which had him mentally backpedalling. A poker face, he had not, when it came to Cas.

“What?” Castiel asked, catching the look on Dean’s face.

“Not the car I was expecting,” Dean said.

“Pray tell, what _were_ you expecting?” There was a tilt in his tone, which warned Dean. The look he shot him over the heap of stuff in Dean’s arms, as he started loading it in the trunk, didn’t help.

Part of the reason Dean had started head-butting with his superiors was his natural tendency to run his mouth. Dean possessed a sense of diplomacy or decorum, if he chose to practise it. Having worked his way into university by the skin of his teeth resulted in a distinct lack of filter or tolerance for bullshit. Having passed the cape of 40, the days when people deemed it mostly boyishly charming seemed to be behind him, at least as far as those superiors were concerned. Dean still thought he could get away with raising hell.

Thing was, he simply rarely saw the point. So too, today.

“A bicycle? Or one of those hippie vans.”

“Such assumptions,” Castiel teased. “A bicycle would have me looking like the Garbage lady.”

Dean laughed at the image, Castiel plucking two mats from his arms. 

“What else do you think you know about me?”

Dean flustered a touch, because try as he might, he couldn’t deny he’d presumed a thing or two about Cas, since meeting him. It looked like he’d been wrong on more than one occasion.

“I dunno, man,” he said, trying to dodge. “It’s not always conscious? I hadn’t considered your car, until the second I saw this pimpmobile, and that’s when it surprised me. If that makes sense.”

Castiel let out an agreeable hum. “Potentially. Would appreciate it if you didn’t call it a pimpmobile though.”

“It?” Dean grimaced. “He doesn’t have a name?”

Slamming the trunk closed, Castiel rose to his full height, giving Dean an amused once-over, as he stepped closer. The way he licked his lower lip had Dean distracted.

“I think I just learned something about you,” Castiel smiled.

“Oh, yeah? And what’s that?”

“You’re the type to assign a gender and name to your car.”

“Damn straight I am. She’s precious.”

“Wait? You named her Precious? I didn’t expect _that_.”

Dean spluttered. “Hell, no. Her name’s Baby and she’s a ‘67 Chevy Impala.”

Ducking his head, Castiel tried to keep his face in check, but it was clear from his shaking shoulders he was laughing.

“Are you laughing at me?”

“No, I’m not… It’s… I love what your face is doing,” Castiel chuckled, gesturing a hand at Dean’s face. “So emphatic about her.”

“She’s a classic car, she used to be my dad’s… Sam and I, we got a lotta memories tied to her.”

Castiel’s face softened at those words. “I’m glad she’s in such loving hands then. Mine’s been giving me some grief lately.”

“I can have a look at him, if you like?”

“So those hands fix cars?”

“Yep,” Dean grinned.

Cas looked at him pensively, as if considering something.

“I’ve already kept you long enough. The help of those hands was greatly appreciated, by the way.”

“Yeah, well, I made class run over… again.” Dean cleared his throat, self-consciousness rising.

Not because he’d stayed flopped over, but because Cas had allowed him and joined him in that moment.

Making it not only his, but _theirs_.

Castiel leaned his hip against the back of his car, one hand in his pocket. “So how did you enjoy your first class?”

“After all that, you gotta ask?”

“I like to double-check. Explicit words are a good thing.”

Dean’s mind did a backflip and he puckered his lips as he mulled it over, wondering if he was reading too much into it. Into Cas. Into Cas’ continued interest in his well-being. His mind conjured up Inverted Cas from minutes ago.

“Explicit, huh?” He winked and relished the slight widening in Cas’ eyes. He hurried to continue. “Uhm… I think what my brain came up with was… that it felt like sinking into the perfect, hot bath? Mood lighting and all.”

“You like being in water?”

Giving it a moment’s thought, Dean nodded, looking back on the last few months, stuck at home… He’d spent an inordinate amount showering or soaking in his bath. Often failed to focus on the book he had with him, he had resorted to music instead. It didn’t solve anything, but it was something decent to do for himself, as his therapist insisted.

“I do, actually. Though it might be more about the heat. Been in the water a lot lately,” he smiled at the realisation.

Castiel nodded, as if understanding, which was a theme they had going. Or Dean was being too hopeful. He wondered just how it kept happening that he kept Cas late.

“I’ll, uhh, see you Wednesday then?”

A curt nod, as if Cas realised something. “Yes, indeed, see you Wednesday. Drive safe.”

“Will do. Night, Cas.”

“Good night, Dean.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first of many little moments. I guess this is a slowish burn. Pay-off in the end, I swear. Working on it as I post.
> 
> Next chapter is in two days on the 22nd. 
> 
> As always, thank you for being here. Kudos and comments feed the soul. And the soul is hungry. Happy, but hungry.
> 
> Love,  
> Mal


	13. January 22nd, 2020

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the first time since he started Cas’ lessons, Dean made it out the door ahead of everyone else.

**Wednesday, January 22** **nd** **2020**

The next yoga class introduced him to a yoga cardio blend that delivered on the whole heart rate thing and had him wheezing like an old dog. Dean wondered when actual progress would become noticeable.

He felt he was getting the hang of warm-up downward dog and cobra. Planks came easily enough to him. Boat pose was a bit more challenging. If he recalled the name right. It had him balancing on his ass, legs stretched up and leaning back, arms extended, in a V-shape (or something resembling a V). It was shaky and uncomfortable, but he gave it his best out of sheer stubbornness. 

Cas introduced them to something called warrior pose one, two and three. Unlike before, the focus was on creating a flow rather than holding the poses. He found he enjoyed these, leaning into the strength of his legs and feeling the effects on his back, when he stretched.

“Try not to get distracted with getting every part of the pose perfect. Focus, yes, but aim for a smooth flow. Mind the limits of your stretch.”

It surprised Dean how it got his blood flowing.

“Why does this seem harder than your high intensity thingy?” he panted, when Cas dropped by to check on him.

“Well… Are you at a hundred percent?”

The question so preposterous, Dean laughed, throwing his head back as he slapped a hand down on Cas’ shoulder. “I can’t remember the last time I was.”

Aware of how loud he sounded in a yoga class, he closed his hand over his mouth. Castiel didn’t seem to mind. He did seem noticeably confused.

“How is that funny exactly?” Cas asked.

Dean let out a long sigh, chuckling softly, well aware it wasn’t really funny. “It probably isn’t. Or shouldn’t be.”

Castiel waited, observing Dean, which ought to irk him. Except he found himself wanting to give at least part of the truth. Dean was no idjit. He knew Cas’ presence and efforts had helped him, even if Cas seemed unaware. He was just being kind to a struggling fellow human being. Which was much more than Dean had expected to get out of these classes.

“I… I’ve been at home from work for a while. Which means I’ll either lose my job or resign… soon, I guess. And I don’t know what to do. So I am, by no stretch of the imagination, anywhere near a hundred percent.”

Giving an understanding nod, Castiel rolled his shoulders back. “What do you do?”

“Surgeon. Kids’ hospital, specialised in burn wounds.” He wiggled the fingers on both hands at Cas and felt his face soften at the words. Despite everything, there was still a deep connection to the job, something that tugged at him every time he gave it any kind of thought.

“That… hmm...”

“What?”

“Hadn’t expected that.” Cas shot him a heavy look, eyebrows raised. “And you asked if I had magic hands?”

“I prefer calling you Hot Wings.” Dean smirked, a slow and languid smugness spreading across his features, but didn’t take the opening about expectations. Cas squinted at him, as if sensing it, and shook his head, either at that or the nickname.

“Bit of a brat too, aren’t you?”

“So I’ve been told,” Dean laughed.

“Indeed. I imagine that kinda job takes a lot out of you… working with kids,” Castiel said. He gave a soft shrug when he was seemingly unable to finish the thought.

“It ain’t the job,” Dean found himself saying. “Not entirely anyway. Sure, it can be hard when… when it goes wrong. But no, mainly it’s the leadership, the higher-ups, making shitty decisions. Telling us how to… how to human.”

He didn’t mention the last one. Where it’d gone wrong.

“How to human… A beautiful way of describing it. Isn’t it always the higher-ups though? Assbutts.”

Castiel frowned at seeing Dean’s expression and hurried on.

“Not as some generic, cynical thing to say, but doesn’t any company, especially those prone to idealism, suffer from the ones in charge, the tunnel vision policies and disregard for what’s truly important? Let alone genuine change.”

“Those prone to idealism. That’s aptly put,” Dean muttered. He shook his head, a sarcastic tone slipping in. “My therapist advised me to be more pragmatic.”

Whoa, hold on. Why had he said that? Missouri hadn’t told him to go blabbing to people.

Granted, Cas’ words aligned near perfectly with some of the stuff he’d covered in therapy, but still. Dean slammed his mouth shut, worried about the response he was going to get.

Cas nodded, almost eager. “Oh, pragmatism is a good thing.”

Dean tilted his head, unwilling to speak for fear he divulged more. Mental health being what it was in this country, he was surprised at the openness with which Cas responded.

“If I hadn’t chosen to be pragmatic about certain aspects of my life, I’d probably be living in a cardboard box somewhere now.”

Dean eyed him, unsure what to do with that, mainly because it needed processing. The thought that he was headed there, if he didn’t get a grip on himself soon, crossed his mind, though he knew neither Charlie nor Sam would let it get that far.

“But I have this job and my own business on the side, which is good enough.”

Cas seemed to consider something as he studied Dean, who was too caught up in trying to keep up to fully register. “More than good enough.”

“On the side?” he echoed.

“Private yoga classes,” Cas smiled. “Bikram.”

“Bless you.”

Dean smirked at Cas’ annoyed expression.

“Really, Dean?”

“No, just kidding, I think I’ve heard Sammy mention it. The sweaty, hot room type of yoga, right?”

“Exactly that.”

“So you have the infrastructure for that at home?”

“I do.”

“Impressive.”

With a soft sigh, Castiel nodded. “Just saying that sometimes it takes some time and being pragmatic about shit isn’t a bad thing. You good to continue?”

Dean noticed his breathing had calmed and nodded. He mulled over the conversation during the rest of the lesson, eventually settling that he didn’t mind Cas knowing. He’d also made a valid point, Dean guessed, though he still had no idea how to implement it.

What had him smiling through the second part of class, despite the cardio aspect of it, was realising that Cas had accepted it, him, at face value. It made him feel warm, which he blamed on the work-out, because, no, it wasn’t in any googly-eyed way.

A denial which caught up with him at lightning speed, when, at the end of class, he was confronted with a strawberry blonde young woman, wandering into the room with the ease of familiarity. When she all but threw herself at Cas, large doe eyes and sweet smiles, and he saw Cas’ instinctive response, Dean’s gut turned. The warmth in those blue eyes spoke of a profound bond.

For the first time since he started Cas’ lessons, Dean made it out the door ahead of everyone else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, Dean, honey... 
> 
> It's a hella busy week still and I should be writing. A lot. At least I am posting!
> 
> Next installment tomorrow! 
> 
> Let me know how you're liking this so far? 
> 
> Much love,  
> Mal


	14. January 23rd, 2020

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So you didn’t bother to go talk to them?”
> 
> Dean brandished the dripping pan like a weapon for a second, splattering water drops across the tiled floor, then towelled it dry, quick and efficient. His gestures were clipped, borderline angry.

**Thursday, January 23** **rd** **2020**

Sam sighed, ducking his head under the kitchen cabinet as he did the dishes.

“So you didn’t bother to go talk to them?”

Dean brandished the dripping pan like a weapon for a second, splattering water drops across the tiled floor, then towelled it dry, quick and efficient. His gestures were clipped, borderline angry.

“She was around his neck and his arms were around her waist. No, Sammy, I didn’t think to throw myself between that.”

“Just saying, she could be anyone.”

Dean made a dismissive sound and Sam caught on. From the corner of his eye, Dean saw he was trying to come up with something constructive to say. Something to cut through the tension Dean had been building up consistently ever since yesterday evening. Dinner had been something of a testy affair, which was entirely down to Dean’s mood. He decided to short-circuit the whole thing, lest Sam started to further analyse the shit out of it or tell him what to do.

“Weren’t you going to meet Gabe?”

Sam snorted. “Are you kicking me out?”

“Yes. I got this.” He gestured at the dishes.

“Oh, it’s so lovely to hear you stopped measuring your words. Missouri will be proud.”

Mentioning his therapist in this context was no coincidence. When Dean didn’t take the bait, Sam huffed.

“Fine, but I’m expecting a call tomorrow before noon.”

"Dude, I'm the one who should be getting phonecalls."

"And you will, but I for one will not risk waking you up on your birthday."

Sam draped the towel over the back of one of the kitchen chairs. Ostentatiously he opened his arms for a hug.

Dean grunted at him, as he dried his hands, and accepted the hug half-heartedly. When he was sure Sam had left, he double-bolted his door to keep both him and Charlie out. He finished the dishes, letting them dry on the rack. After pacing around his living room, his focus scattered like autumn leaves, he groaned in frustration at himself. 

A light bulb went on. A soak in the bath seemed like a good idea. It was a comfort he was not willing to part with, even or especially with his head in a mild funk. And that admission in itself was more than he would have given himself credit for months ago.

A good ten minutes later, Dean sank into the warm water with a soft sigh and closed his eyes. _The Night Circus_ only mildly succeeded at keeping him engaged, despite its evocative vibe, glorious imagery and characters. A bit melodramatic, but what could you expect from the flamboyant setting. The poetic love story weaving it together had drawn him in, but it carried a sting to it today.

By now, he knew he was a touch soft on Cas. Just a touch. The dynamic they had going these past… four? Only four weeks… it had made him lower his guard, which he hadn’t even realised was up, until Cas had gently started rearranging parts, opening him up…

He re-read the same paragraph five times, before he gave up and let the book slide from his fingers onto the towel on the floor. Bemused, he sank lower into the water, his knees falling victim to the chill of the air, his lips at the water so he could blow gentle bubbles.

It’d be unfair to be angry at Cas for this. He’d never bothered to ask. Nor was it okay by any stretch of the imagination to consider him that way, when all he’d done was help Dean get out of his rut. Nor was it Cas’ fault Dean had wildly misread his signals… but perhaps he was out of practice. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d tried to flirt… or…

Hush.

If Cas had a girlfriend, who was Dean to have a hissy fit, just because he’d A) gotten fond of him over the course of a mere few weeks and B) been mistaken about his sexuality? After all, Cas was just his yoga teacher. Dean was just his client. In a few weeks’ time, eventually they’d get to the end of classes and they’d move on.

Better if Dean rearrange his expectations now and get the most out of it, without making it awkward for Cas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The tag says "idiots to lovers". You were warned. This is going to get slightly worse, but fluffily so, before it gets better. 
> 
> It will get better! Next installment is on the 27th, so in four days.
> 
> Thank you for the comments so far! I love you for taking the time. The impact of them remains severely underestimated.
> 
> As always, do let me know how you're liking this story? I hope you are well, and if it's difficult, know you're not alone <3
> 
> Much love,  
> Mal


	15. January 25th, 2020

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He woke up this morning to a phone that all but blew up the second he turned it on. Of course they saw their messages' status change to delivered. Next thing he knew they popped up at his door. An army of angry concern.

**Saturday, January 25th 2020**

"Dean, come on! Open the damn door!" Sam yelled.

He glowered at said door, on the other side of which were Sam, Charlie and Gabe, trying to gain entrance to his fortress.

"We looked for you yesterday! Where were you?"

Valid question. They celebrated birthdays together. A tradition much like regular weekly dinners and pyjamas or onesies for the holidays. 

"Are we sure he is in there?" Charlie asked.

"Yes," Sam grunted. "I kept track this time."

"Dean-o, you can't disappear on us like that. The dramatics don't suit you. And I think you made Sunflower sprout grey hair."

A pang of guilt at that comment. He had vanished off the face of the Earth a few times in his life. None of them highlights.

Yet yesterday hadn't been dramatic. At least not intentionally. Just a severe case of the leave me alone's. Because he didn't want to talk and smile his way through fake fine. It wasn't even that he wasn't fine. Cause he was.

He just woke up too early, which always sucks, but especially on one's birthday. He wanted pancakes but had no eggs or bananas in the house. The clever substitute ingredient then reminded him of Cas. Which in turn dragged up a slew of emotions he was not equipped to handle that early in the morning. And he just wanted to clear his head. It would benefit him and the situation. Surely.

After pacing around for a while second-guessing quite a few decisions he had made in the past 6 months or so, he called Missouri. Way too early, of course, so she didn't pick up. He even called Sam, just to keep that promise, but he didn't pick up either.

So he took Baby and started driving. Music on. He sang at the top of his lungs. Watched the sun rise. Stopped at a random diner for a burger and fries. And pancakes. His phone died somewhere along the forenoon, so if there had been replies or birthday wishes, he couldn't check them.

By noon, he felt more like himself. Bought a fancy bottle of whiskey, glass included. Wandered into a book shop and browsed for hours, losing track of time. Bought _The Stars Are Legion_ and a book on the importance of bees. Drove to the lake next and sat around, reading until the sun started to set. Poured himself a glass for his birthday and stared at the stars.

By the time he drove back home, he had genuinely forgotten his phone was dead. Wandered into the shower. Was pleased when he could still smell the sun on his skin after. Plugged his phone in out of sheer habit. And just went to bed. Out like a light. Slept like Cas talked him to the Land of Nod.

He woke up this morning to a phone that all but blew up the second he turned it on. Of course they saw their messages' status change to delivered. Next thing he knew they popped up at his door. An army of angry concern.

Dean rubbed a hand over his face and got up with a frustrated soft snarl. Unbolting the door, he heard them hush each other, and then he flung it open.

"Look, I'm sorry, alright," he said, cutting everyone off. "I took Baby for a drive, got me some diner grub and sat reading by the lake. Lost track of time."

Sam hugged him first. Dean huffed into his brother's hair and put a hand to the back of his head, ruffling through the long strands.

"I saw your missed call."

"You did say to call before noon."

"It's not funny, Dean. We were worried."

He let go of Sam, slapping him on the shoulders. "I'm fine. My phone just died."

"Don't start with that again," Charlie said. "If you needed to be alone, you could have just told us. Any of us."

"I messed up, I know, but I had some trouble thinking straight. So I did what was needed to fix that."

"Just text us next time, you moron," Gabe snapped.

"Did you miss the part where I said my phone died?"

Charlie narrowed her eyes at her. "We didn't, but we also don't put it past you to turn your phone off if it suits you."

"Why are you guys so worried? Jeez.."

"Well, for one, we missed your birthday!" Charlie said.

"Okay. I'm sure you brought the presents now. No?" He made a show of looking around for any. "What other reason?"

Now he caught the awkwardness. Charlie just squinted at him in disbelief. Sam looked to the heavens, hands in his hips. Gabe's eyebrows rose sky-high.

"Well?" Dean prodded.

"Well..." Charlie echoed.

"Umm," Sam muttered, glancing away.

"Oh, for the love of all that's sweet and tasty, they were worried because of what happened with Cas, alright?!" Gabriel snapped.

Dean gaped at them. Looked away, frowning. Or at least he hoped he was frowning instead of giving anything else away. He rubbed his forehead, eyes closed and let out a long sigh. Eventually he gave a curt nod, lips pursed.

"Yeah, okay, I see how that might have lined up badly."

"Gee, Dean-o.. Ya think?"

"Sorry, guys, really."

Dean made his best cute face at them. Even at this age, it still worked. Well, mostly. Sam was pretty immune, judging by the bitch face he got in return. But Charlie smiled and hugged him.

"You're a menace, Dean Winchester. But I love you."

"Love you too, Bradbury."

"You at least feeling better?" Gabe asked.

"Yeah, it was a good day. Though I feel like I need to make good on tradition. Brunch? I'm starving."

"Of course you are." 

He flicked a finger through the hair at Sam's temple. "Gabe was right. I _can_ see grey hair.."

Sam rolled his eyes, but the corner of his mouth ticked up in a smile. "Happy belated birthday, jerk."

"Thanks, bitch."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A surprise chapter, because like the utter dunce I am, I actually didn't incorporate Dean's birthday.... we are on par for the stupid ball bouncing, it seems.
> 
> But here you are. Belatedly Happy Birthday, Dean Winchester. We love you to bits.
> 
> Thanks for dropping by. Do let me know how you like it? Next installment if for the 27th, as planned.
> 
> Love,  
> Mal


	16. January 27th, 2020

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You feeling okay, Cas?”
> 
> Castiel sniffled as he wiped a hand under his nose. “I didn’t sleep much this week. And Anna fell ill over the weekend.”
> 
> Dean’s hand reached out before his common sense told him not to. He captured Cas by the wrist, feeling for his pulse, counting in silence.

**Monday, January 27** **th** **2020**

>> Dork, wanna hang out after yoga?

Of course they’d keep tabs on him after his little stint on his birthday. Though they kept tabs on each other overall, so perhaps he didn’t need to look at it too closely.

**< < I’ll let you know when I’m done.**

>> Dean.

He rolled his eyes fondly.

**< < Not lying.**

>> Alright, then how’s it with Hot Wings?

**< < Nothing. I should have checked with the guy before… well, whatever. I gave it a think, talked it through with Missouri. We’re good.**

Or as good as he was going to get. It took effort not to deflect everything, but there was a limit to it still. He didn’t want to make a bigger deal out of this than was necessary. And despite what everyone seemed to think, in the end, Dean knew his own mind best. He knew that digging too deep into this with Charlie or Sam wouldn’t benefit him. This was not the end of the world. It hadn’t gone anywhere irreversible.

>> Well… that’s very functional of you. Better than I’d do.

**< < What’s the point of paying Missouri if I don’t learn a thing or two, right?**

>> This is weird, but oddly satisfying. Yes. Let me know, yah?

**< < Will do. Thanks, Bradbury.**

He had, however, underestimated how he’d feel during class. He spent the majority of his last lesson dodging Cas. Or haphazardly failing to dodge him. Because his heart wasn’t in it. Despite that, Cas still behaved as if nothing changed and Dean tried to reciprocate, but found a… distance settling. Pragmatic, perhaps, and a dash of self-preservation. It wasn’t that he wanted to see the kicked kitten look on Cas’ face, far from it, but he realised just how engaged he’d been with Cas over the span of a few weeks and if he truly was to be _a responsible adult_ about this, it meant he had to disengage. At least a touch.

He broke eye contact first as often as he managed. Hint: not very often.

He smiled, but not too much. A lot more difficult in the face of Cas than anticipated.

He cut back on the chit chat. _Lying Cat_ would have a field day with Dean.

Okay, so maybe he bragged about the oatmeal cookies. And he’d brought some for Cas to sample. (Shut up.) Not about the soup he’d freewheeled, based on some of Cas’ favourite ingredients, marked in the winter cookbook.

He told him Sam was over the moon with the vegan cookbook. The smile that bestowed was brilliant. Not that he’d done yoga at home, imagining he heard Cas’ voice, when he was having trouble getting to sleep.

Maybe he mentioned the birthday shenanigans. He didn’t even leave out the part about wanting to be alone and, as always, found nothing but acceptance on Cas’ part. And a warm birthday hug he hadn’t anticipated that left his whole body tingling pleasantly minutes after Cas let go, because he had to sneeze. It was the first time Cas touched him with anything other than exercise-related intent. Which seemed to confuse Cas momentarily as well. And sent Dean’s brain on a happy ‘ _hear me out, I have an idea_ ’ tangent. 

_Bad brain._

Aside the hug, it was a peculiar, reticent kind of dynamic. Unnatural. Which seemed to give himself as much whiplash as it did Cas. Mainly because he probably had no clue why Dean was being all kinds of weird and awkward. None of it made sense. He _had_ to be reading him wrong.

But then class came to an end and surely, there he was, sauntering up to Dean again.

“Hello, Dean.”

“Heya, Cas,” Dean sighed.

To do everyone a favour, he ought to bid his goodbyes and leave. Maybe switch classes, but the thought provoked a strong surge of rebellion, only augmented when he saw the expression in Cas’ eyes. He had no right to look that way. He wasn’t the one…

Dean bit down on his tongue to stop the thought in its tracks. To have something to do, he drank from his reusable bottle, for some reason acutely aware it was one of Cas’ recipes going down his throat.

Cas sneezed again, keeping his eyes squeezed shut for a few seconds. Frowning, Dean took a closer look at him. He was sweating harder than he normally would. The lines under his eyes seemed deeper and he appeared quite tired.

“You feeling okay, Cas?”

Castiel sniffled as he wiped a hand under his nose. “I didn’t sleep much this week. And Anna fell ill over the weekend.”

Dean’s hand reached out before his common sense told him not to. He captured Cas by the wrist, feeling for his pulse, counting in silence.

“Your heart rate’s up. Higher than it ought to be for someone like you. And the session was rather calm.” His penny dropped immediately. “Which you probably did on purpose to cut yourself some slack.”

Cas squinted at him, then let his eyes fall to Dean’s fingers on his wrist. “Perhaps.”

“You feel warm. Do you have classes every night?”

“I do,” Cas said, the verb extending as if he was really thoroughly confused. “I work almost every day, except Sundays.”

Dean snorted gently, slipping into his professional persona without effort. He stepped closer to Cas, putting his wrist to his forehead for a brief moment. “Doctor’s orders say otherwise. Cause you seem to be working up a fever too.”

“But…”

“Practice what you preach, Cas.”

Cas actually groaned at the remark, puffing his cheeks out at Dean in annoyance. He rubbed his hand over his forehead, glared at the cold sweat he found there.

“I might need to cancel Wednesday then.”

Which made it sound like it wasn’t a group thing. Dean carefully side-stepped it.

“You better. Tomorrow too.”

Cas put his hands on his hips. His eyes shot skywards to the heavens, lips parted as he sighed in mute surrender. It would be aggravating if Cas wasn’t so darned cute.

 _Hold up, Winchester, back it up_.

He gave a curt nod and with that the subject appeared shelved.

“Question,” Cas said, voice shifting into something almost uncharacteristically cool, which belied his next words. “Would you feel like trying out a Bikram yoga session this weekend?”

Dean snorted some of the tea up his nose and suffered a coughing fit. Which, nonono, brought Cas in close again, as he slapped him on the back. It took too long, his eyes watering, but he pulled through and was met with Cas’ worried face, as his hand remained resting between his shoulder blades. His thumb was drawing soothing circles. This was all kinds of upside down.

“Oh, balls,” Dean groaned, looking away.

“Pardon?”

With Cas’ warmth so close, Dean grit his teeth, as he felt his insides lurch in that sickeningly pleasant way which he equated with only one thing.

A sucker then.

“I said, yeah, I… uh, I’ll join. Provided you’re not hacking up a lung. What time?”

“Ah,” Cas exhaled, sounding relieved. Dean’s heart clenched. “Saturday, 9 am.”

“What an unholy hour,” Dean groaned, squinting at him. “What is wrong with you?”

Castiel let out a genuine laugh for the first time since Dean had seen Strawberry Blonde. Maybe he’d get to meet her in a homely setting. It might make it easier.

Masochist too then.

“Not a morning person?”

“Not by a long shot,” Dean said, smile unsure. “But I can make an exception.”

_Stop. Flirting._

“Good,” Castiel said. He patted him on the back, stepping away. “Mind, technically this doesn’t fall within the subscription in this gym. Just so you’re aware.”

Right. Of course. Which meant it would cost him money, something he ought to be careful about under his current circumstances. Dean swallowed the words that might hint at him needing a financial break, knowing Missouri would kick his ass for it. Honesty was one thing, vulnerability quite another. Though one seemed to imply the other and he just couldn’t deal with that right now.

That and he might just be stupidly curious about seeing Cas’ private practice and house. Seeing him in his comfort zone. Cas’ eyes grew wider while he was mulling these thoughts over in his head. 

“But I can always offer it as a try-out for your birthday?”

Dean’s heart jumped into his throat at the gentlest nudge to get him to do something Cas was convinced was good for him.

“Cas, you work for it, you get paid for it,” he said. “I’m curious to see what you have on offer anyway.”

Castiel’s smile lit up the room. “Let’s exchange numbers? I’ll text you our address.”

“Yeah, of course.”

Oh, this distance thing was working out stellar. Very functional. Yes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> La-dee-dah. Stuff's moving into more personal territory... Will Dean channel is inner idiot a while longer?
> 
> Your next installment is on February 1st!
> 
> As always, thank you for being here with the boys and let me know how they're making you feel?
> 
> Love,  
> Mal


	17. February 1st, 2020

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean shrugged. “And yeah, I’m aware I’m paying him… but it just feels very natural to get along. If I keep paying him and mind my manners, it doesn’t need to get weird, right? It’s all in a very platonic kind of way. Especially if his girl’s gonna be there.”
> 
> “Oh, no, not weird at all. Maybe they’re poly?” Charlie asked. “Because screw platonic, pardon my French.”

**Saturday, February 1** **st** **2020**

Dean was stupid nervous Saturday morning. In fact, he was so nervous he had barely slept since Wednesday. Which resulted in Sam and Charlie making their way over along the night. His bed was big enough for three, so it had all the makings of an old school sleepover, with an Indiana Jones marathon, and pillows and duvets scattered across his bedroom. Charlie slept in the middle, if only to avoid either him or Sam knocking her out of the bed with their brotherly sleeping habits.

Upside: it meant he was awake well on time, with Sam brewing coffee and Charlie playing music on her iPad. He hadn’t heard from Cas since Monday, except for the text that confirmed Cas was taking the good doctor’s advice. Aside the one reply, Dean had come close to texting him a few times to ask how he was feeling. 

He double-checked the contents of his duffel and Cas’ address. His house was only a twenty minute drive, but it was definitely in a nicer part on the edge of the city. He ensured the container with chicken soup was closed solid tight. 

He sipped his coffee, sighing as it warmed him.

Charlie bit into a warm croissant. “So tell me again how we went from ‘I gotta distance myself!’ to ‘I am meeting him at his house for hot sweaty yoga!’?”

“I’m unable to say no to creatures with puppy eyes? He was ill. You should have seen him.”

Sam sat down next to him. “Ain’t that the half-truth?”

“I don’t know, okay?” Dean huffed. “I like the guy. Just because he has a girlfriend doesn’t mean I suddenly can’t… hang out with him, I guess?”

“Except you’re paying him for this, right?”

“He offered it as a birthday gift, but I refused. Seemed off.” Dean frowned, pulling Charlie’s plate towards him and stealing her other croissant. 

“Hey! Dork! Make me a new one, if you’re gonna steal.”

“But that’s the whole point, I don’t wanna make one. If I did, I’d make my own. I’m still hungry.”

“You’re comfort eating,” Sam said.

“They’re freshly baked. I’m allowed.”

“But it’s gonna suck during yoga. Especially in that kind of heat.”

Dean slowed down his chewing and, realising Sam had a point, handed the croissant back to Charlie.

“Really?” she said, waving it around like it was a personal insult.

Dean shrugged. “And yeah, I’m aware I’m paying him… but it just feels very natural to get along. If I keep paying him and mind my manners, it doesn’t need to get weird, right? It’s all in a very platonic kind of way. Especially if his girl’s gonna be there.”

“Oh, no, not weird at all. Maybe they’re poly?” Charlie asked. “Because screw platonic, pardon my French.”

Dean licked his fingers, his brain zoning out for a while at the idea, and gave it some consideration. Eventually, he frowned. “If they are, they better use their words. Because that’s not an assumption I’m going to be making.”

“Did I just hear you say people ought to use their words?”

“What can I say? I can be taught.”

“Except you haven’t asked Cas if he’s gay or if Strawberry is his girl. So you refuse the one assumption, yet make the other one, idiot in full swing.”

“I can be taught in baby steps, alright?” he semi-snapped.

He didn’t want to explain why… but the reason was simple, deceptively so. If he did ask Cas, straightforward, he risked more than he was willing to. He’d risk the classes. He’d risk Cas. Over the short span of time they’d spent together, Dean felt the impact of his presence, the wholesomeness of it all. Some days, it made him roll his eyes. Most days, it made him feel strangely grateful, for lack of a better word.

And vulnerable.

So excuse him if he wanted to safeguard it.

He finished the last of his coffee and grabbed his duffel. “Dinner at The Bunker tonight?"

“Yep.”

“Have fun, dork.”

“Will do my best. By the way, don’t you two mess this place up. I just cleaned.”

Dean winked and flashed them his widest smile, as he closed the front door.

“So he did,” Charlie nodded, swiping a finger over the edge of the chair next to her. Dean didn't have it in him to feel insulted. He was on his way to meet Cas.  


*

**Saturday, February 1** **st** **2020**

Dean eyed the side of the road, trying to read the house numbers, slowing Baby down enough to be able to take the turn onto the driveway when it came up. It was quiet on the road, as one would expect on a Saturday morning, and he didn’t hate the look of the sky on this chilly February morning. The thought of moving again had crossed his mind more often over the past year and driving through here reminded him… He didn’t belong in the city. He needed the wide skies, the lush greens, now wrapped in the chill embrace of winter.

He pulled up to the right place, mouth going slack at the house, revealing itself as he manoeuvred Baby up the hedged driveway and parked her next to the pimpmobile. There was a British Racing Green Mini beside, which drew his attention, its pristine, clean coating in stark contrast with Cas’ - let’s face it - neglected vehicle. Dean huffed softly, an indulgent softness swirling in his chest at the idea that he’d be okay with Cas not taking care of his car the way Dean figured people ought to.

Maybe he could repeat his offer to help. Repay the kindness. Or whatever. Cas hadn’t exactly declined last time. He just hadn’t wanted to keep Dean up.

His boots crunched on the fine gravel as he made his way towards the house, duffel and soup container in hand, taking it in. It was a simple design, a long two-story rectangle, one side consisting of windows from roof to floor, a style choice that seemed to wrap around the backside. For the majority of the rooms, sheer curtains prevented a shameless view inside. On some, presumably bedrooms, the heavier curtains were drawn. He spotted a black and white design bathroom on the first floor, zero curtains drawn.

As he got up close, he saw the entrance extended outwards, shaped like a trapezoid with slanted window panes catching the light at a gorgeous angle. The double front door had the house number and a delicate design of feathers, flowers and stars sand-blasted into it. The design bled through to the windows on both floors and to the side. Dean could only imagine what it looked like in summer.

He noticed a sizeable wooden building in the back, but before he could take a closer look, he saw movement inside. With a peculiar sense of intrigue, he watched Strawberry Blonde run towards the front door. She was clearly yelling something and hadn’t noticed Dean. In observing her step into her faux-fur-lined ankle boots and haphazardly throw on a scarf and jacket, he realised she was a lot younger than he initially thought. Easily ten years younger than him, possibly more.

Still blissfully unaware of Dean, she pulled the front door open, as she tugged a beanie onto her head.

“Cassie, I’m leaving! I’ll see you later! I love you!”

If Cas answered at all, Dean couldn’t tell. He made to step back and out of her way, but his foot slipped on a patch of ice. Panicked, he pressed the container close to his stomach.

“OH!” she exclaimed, when she barrelled into him, her arms around him for a second, then on his chest. Dean’s duffel slipped from his grasp and her beanie fell to the ground, as he held onto her and they balanced each other out. Big brown eyes looked up at him and she smiled, impossibly warm, making Dean’s heart sink.

“Hi,” he smiled as best he could. “I, uh…” He let go of her quickly.

“You must be here for the yoga! Dean, right?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, as he picked up the beanie and handed it over. “Yeah, sorry, I should have rung the bell.”

“Thanks. No worries,” she assured him as she stepped back. She flapped the beanie a few times and put it on. “I should really look where I’m going. Hi! I’m Anna. Cassie’s inside, just walk all the way to the back and take the door that says ‘Feathers’.”

Dean smiled, despite the ache twisting up his gut, and mouthed the word back at her with a tilt of his head.

“Ask him,” Anna smiled. “I have to get out of your hair.”

Giving the door a push, she gestured Dean inside, then dashed past him to the Mini, almost slipping a few times on the way. Dean chuckled at the sight. Within seconds, she burst off the driveway, waving a gloved hand at him. Bit of a spitfire, it seemed.

Dean stood still, one foot inside, his hand holding the door, and looked from where she’d been to inside of this unfamiliar house. There was a moment of hesitation, as he grabbed his duffel, because this all felt a lot less… streamlined than the gym. A touch weird. Was he just supposed to walk inside? He flicked his wrist and looked at the time. He was too early.

The cold seeping in made the call for him and Dean stepped inside. He toed his boots off, putting them on a small shelf, which had a Feathers logo inscribed on it. Removing his jacket, he noticed the huge coat rack, though there wasn’t a mass of coats on it that merited its presence. A pale trench coat, a dark denim jacket, a long hand-knit scarf in various colours, which he vaguely recognised from one of Charlie’s shows. There were at least three more jackets, all varying sizes.

Maybe they really were poly?

With a gentle shake of his head, Dean dismissed the idea. Gingerly, curious, he looked ahead, the scent of the house invading his senses, but he had trouble picking out what he smelled. He started walking towards the back, trying not to pick up too much of the essence of the house, but his curiosity got the better of him.

He saw an exquisite open kitchen with an 8 hob range cooker and two fridges, its abstract colour scheme weirdly reminding him of the much more humble kitchen at Uncle Bobby’s. His eyes skimmed from the dishes next to the wide sink to the colourful towels on the wall rack, a Japanese tea set and a freshly baked pie that had him licking his lips. He put down the container on the counter. 

He flicked his gaze to the living area, divided by pale wooden, sturdy bookcases that were angled perpendicular on the windows, leaving space on either side . A U-shape of three couches, covered in blankets, wrapped around a glass coffee table - really, how many people were here on the regular, he wondered. Cas never struck him as a social butterfly. His eyes lingered on two more cosy reading nooks , oozing the spirit of cocooning perfectly… and he stopped in his tracks at the large painting on the far wall.  An abstract with two huge blue eyes and wings and something vulnerable. Dean couldn’t tear his gaze away from it, had he wanted to. He forgot to breathe when he spotted Cas’ name signed in the bottom left corner.

This was almost too much, too personal… and he was looking at it from the wrong kind of angle, the curious angle, the angle of ‘ _ I wanna know all about you _ ’… and he had no right.

So he skimmed over the rest of the living area and glued his eyes to the door Anna had pointed out to him. When he opened it, a moist warmth enveloped him, as the scent he’d picked up fell heavy on the air. He picked out sandalwood and clove, with something else he couldn’t define.

It took him only a second to realise that some part of it was distinctly Cas and he flustered.

“Fan-freaking-tastic,” he muttered to himself.

He spotted the door with the Feathers logo and knocked. Inside, he couldn’t hear a thing, until suddenly the door opened and Cas was smiling at him.

“Oh, good God,” Dean gasped as the warmth hit him.

Cas was wearing a dark tank top and linen slacks, his hair already matting at the base of his neck. “Yeah, can’t call me that yet.”

He extended his hand to Dean, fingers fanned out, and stepped outside. Dean’s gaze fell down to Cas’ fingers, inches from his chest, mouth dry at Cas’ words.

“You’re early.”

“Sorry about that…”

Cas shook his head and shushed him, dropping his hand. “It’s okay. I’m glad you’re here.”

Dean licked his lips, overwhelmed by both the surroundings and Cas, who looked so much more at ease here than he did at the gym, the happiness he proclaimed visible in every line of his face, every smooth gesture of his body. A thought ping-ponged into his skull, the one about pragmatism, but he was a touch too overwhelmed for it to land on fertile soil.

“You can leave your duffel here and we’ll head back into the kitchen for a bit. I can make tea, while we wait for the others. Have you eaten?”

“Tea?” Dean managed, as he put the duffel down by the wall. “Yes. Yeah.”

He trotted after Cas, eyes lingering on his ass in the linen pants, that left enough to his imagination to make him blank for a bit and a different kind of hunger woke.

Stellar. Abso-fucking-lutely stellar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're gettin' there.. and by there, I mean, inside Cas' personal space!
> 
> Good news, the next installment is later today. Because within each other's personal space means more words and interaction and stupid. Yeah.
> 
> So I'll catch you later again ^^ let me know, you lovely lot, I'm curious!
> 
> Hope your weekend is shaping up beautifully and/or that these boys can help in that department.  
> Love,  
> Mal


	18. February 1st, 2020 part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “How old were you?”
> 
> “Four.”
> 
> “So they are old scars.”
> 
> He could tell Cas wanted to ask him how it’d happened, the way he glanced at Meg and Bal.
> 
> “Yeah,” Dean nodded with a sigh. “Yeah, they’re old scars. They don’t hurt.”

**Saturday, February 1** **st** **2020**

Dean tore his eyes away from the subtle muscles working under the fabric, when Cas turned around. 

“What’s this?” Cas asked, gesturing at the container.

“Ah,” Dean smiled. “I made you chicken soup. How are you feeling?”

Castiel’s face did a trick he hadn’t seen before. “Oh, you were right. I needed rest, which is probably what saved me from the worst of it. Still, the turning point wasn’t until yesterday.”

Dean tried not to look smug, but obviously failed, judging by Cas’ mild scowl. He looked better though, well-rested, eyes back to their vibrant shine. “Glad to see you’re better.”

“Thanks for the nudge. And the soup,” Cas said, as he put the container in the fridge.

He went about putting the Japanese tea set to good use. The tea had already been steeping, Dean noticed, when a swirl of pale smoke twirled out of the snout. His eyes caught on the rather gigantic jar of Nutella with a spoon still in it, standing idle on the counter. Dean chuckled as he thumbed at it.

“She eats Nutella by the spoon?”

Cas’ brow furrowed and Dean caught the somewhat self-conscious smile. “Actually, that would be me.”

“Seriously? Mister here-have-my-vegan-cookbook, who makes homemade teas and cookies, eats Nutella straight from the jar?”

Cas’ lower jaw worked itself into a cocky challenge, as he held Dean’s gaze. “Would you have it any other way? The humanity of it all.”

Watching the playfulness twinkling off of Cas like fireworks, Dean figured that, no, he really wouldn’t want it any other way. Schooling his features to neutral innocence, he tried to focus his attention away from Cas’ lips.

“Not much of a chocolate paste fan. I prefer pie,” Dean grinned. “But I eat those in pairs, so no, I wouldn’t. Don’t let me stop you either.”

“Excellent. How are you?”

Dean leaned on the sleek black counter, curling his toes into the floor, his leg jiggling, chest aflutter with eager nerves.

“I’m good,” he said, reflexively.

Setting aside the Nutella jar with the spoon, Cas shot him a look over the bowl of herbs he was mixing up. “You okay with extra ginger?”

He wanted to make a joke about not being partial to gingers, per se, but to dark-haired, blue-eyed gym instructors.

“Sure,” he nodded.

Cas’ eyes were on him, innocent and wide-eyed, as he went about pouring two cups from the pitch black cast iron teapot. His hand snuck back over to the Nutella pot and, under Dean’s widening smile, he scooped a spoonful out, blue eyes alight with mirth. Wordlessly, he held it out for Dean.

_ Want some? _

Dean had enough time to wonder if that spoon had been in Cas’ mouth before, but waved his hand in a refusal.

“I’m good, thanks.”

“So you said. How do I rephrase that question to get a genuine answer?” he asked, before folding the spoon into his mouth.

It took Dean a second to realise it had been the other question, the spoken question, Cas was referencing. He rolled his sleeves up, ensuring they didn’t ride up too far, and folded his arms on the counter, eyeing Cas, perhaps with more intent than was necessary. He could see his tongue work inside his mouth, melting the chocolate, which was mightily distracting.

The small cast iron teacup was warmer to the touch than regular mugs were and forced him to drink slower, blowing across the surface of the tea, bits of ginger bobbing about.

“Better,” he finally offered. “I hate to say it and I’d be grateful if you never told Sam before I can, should you meet him at… y’know, one of your gym instructor retreats or whatever…”

Castiel scoffed, making a face at him, as he dipped the spoon back in.

“We do not have…,” he grunted, then seemed to reconsider it, licking his lips, “… I mean, not the way you’re making it sound.”

Dean nodded, amused. “Uh-uh. But, uh… this exercise thing has really been working for me.”

Except it hadn’t. It had and it hadn’t.

“Really?” Cas’ face lit up.

The fact that Cas was visibly happy at the mere thought of Dean feeling better did things to him.

“It has and it hasn’t… I think it’s a mixture of elements, but I’m better either way. Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, right?” He took a careful sip of the cup, inhaling its spicy scent.

“I wouldn’t say that…”

“What would you say?”

Cas gave him a long look, to the point where Dean felt his cheeks warm up.

“Whichever element it is, figure it out and keep it close.”

He put the spoon in the sink and tightened the lid on the jar, as he wiped his thumb and index fingers over his mouth, licking his thumb when he caught some of the leftover sweetness. Dean licked his lips by proxy and caught himself doing so.

_ So what do I do if the element is you? _

Dean didn’t say it. Instead he cast a somewhat exaggerated glance around the living area. “You, uhh… this is quite the shindig you got goin’, Cas. How many people live here?”

“Right now? Only two.”

Dean blinked at the casual lilt to those first two words. Damn Charlie for putting ideas in his head, because it added a subtext to the conversation, lined up questions which in other circumstances would likely be normal and not make his ears burn.

“Uhh… What’d you do with the rest? Bury them in the garden?”

Cas smirked, a touch of disturbing to the glint in his eyes, as he sipped innocently from his cup.

“Oh, shit, man, please tell me I didn’t walk into a psycho’s house.”

Cas let rip a loud laugh, throwing his head back and Dean watched, on that edge of uncertainty. It took Cas a few hiccups to come out of it.

“You should have seen your face. I think you actually looked to the door to see if you could make it.”

“I probably couldn’t,” Dean huffed.

“Hmm, you might surprise yourself in the face of imminent danger. However I can assure you, you are perfectly safe, Dean.”

“That’s what he would say…”

Dean kept an expectant eye on Cas, whose penny eventually dropped.

“Ahh, uhm, well… Most of them just moved out, as siblings are wont to do.”

“How many of you are there?” Dean exclaimed.

“Six total.”

“Si… six? Holy hell. Your parents must’ve had the patience of saints.”

“If they’d been around, maybe, yes,” Cas said.

Dean froze in mid-sip, processing the casual remark. Cas looked perfectly at ease with it, shooting Dean a soft smile when he noticed he’d locked in place.

“It’s alright. You did not poke a festering wound. At most a sensitive scar.” 

And it sounded like it was okay, but Dean hit the point where he’d keeled over into his curiosity. That and the mention of scars made his skin crawl. Dean knew scars.

“If you don’t mind me asking… Wha… What happened?”

“The quick and dirty of it would be that the death of one lead to the death of another and then we had to step up…”

Cas paused, shooting Dean a rather intense look.

“I don’t mind telling you, but I see the others have arrived. And I have to go meet Anna after this session. So stick around next time? Provided this regime suits your needs, of course.”

Goddamnit, how he wanted to just… sit and talk with Cas, instead of being bound by this arrangement. It  _ wasn’t _ the exercise. Not only.

“Yeah, sure, man. Gladly.”

“Good,” Cas smiled.

Dean turned to the front door, leaning his hip against the counter, as Cas walked away to let in a man and woman. The enthusiastic greetings and hugs they bestowed on Cas suggested they were familiars. A sudden relief came over him, at the fact that there was already a promise of a next time. The smile Dean shot the woman with the heart-shaped face, who walked up to him, was genuine, even though they’d intruded on his moment with Cas.

“Hi,” she said, extending a hand to him. “I’m Meg. Dean, right?”

There was a twinkle in her eyes Dean didn’t understand and he was surprised she knew his name. “Uhh, yeah, hi?”

He looked from her to the tall, dirty blonde man, coming up behind her and shook his hand as well. “Balthazar. Call me Bal. Lovely to meet you, Dean.”

Cas had mentioned him to these people? Dean wondered in silence, as Castiel walked into the kitchen and poured two more cups of tea. Both Meg and Balthazar leaned on the counter, visibly at ease.

“I feel I’m at a bit of a disadvantage here.”

Meg tilted her head over her shoulder, jutting her chin out at Castiel. “Clarence said you were joining. You know, that you went through a few changes rapidly. And we’ve been regulars for a long time.”

Cas smiled. “My staunchest supporters.”

“Are you part of the army of siblings?”

Balthazar laughed. “Hardly. Just close friends.”

Cas waved a hand at the door. “Drink your cup of tea, darlings. When you’re ready, you can go in the back and get changed. I’ll wait inside.”

*****

**Saturday, February 1** **st** **2020**

The setup of Cas’ private business was exquisite. Dean discovered a dressing room with four individual cubicles, at the end of which he saw the pale blue tiles of a shower area. Everything was made of a sturdy type of wood, which let off a relaxing scent, mixing in with sandalwood and clove.

Not providing him with much more intel about how they were tied to Cas, Meg and Balthazar were a peculiar pair. The latter possessed a kindness not unlike Cas, but with a bite to his sense of humour that had Dean toeing the line between head tilt and loud barks of laughter as they conversed over the sides of the dressing cubicles. Meg… Although she smiled and projected something akin to genuineness, she also seemed to be reading him. Or trying to.

He got out of his cubicle, where he’d been debating his long-sleeved get-up in silence and, to his surprise, found Meg and Balthazar waiting.

“Oh, you could have gone ahead.”

“That’s okay,” Balthazar said, finishing his cup of tea.

“Long sleeves? You’re going to regret that…”

Dean gave them a once-over, having somewhat guessed this beforehand. Balthazar was only wearing tight spandex, while Meg was in a similar pair of shorts and a form-fitting top. Dean gave a mild shrug, no intention of engaging the topic of his wardrobe choices. If all else failed, he was wearing a tank top underneath, but he’d prefer not to.

“What am I smelling? I can pick out the sandalwood and clove, but there’s something else…”

“Honey,” Meg smiled, as she pricked a finger up to the skies. “Cas has beehives on the roof.”

“Huh… Of course he does. Wait… He makes his own honey too?”

Meg let out a laugh, deeper than he’d anticipated. “What else does he make?”

“Paintings apparently,” Dean said, as he jerked a finger towards the living area. “And…”

_ And people’s lives better _ , but he bit his tongue.

Meg eyed him as they made their way inside the warmest room Dean had ever been in his life.

It wasn’t massive, though it was definitely able to hold more than four people comfortably. Meg and Balthazar spaced apart their mats generously, side by side, Cas’ spearheading it so they could follow his example. A fourth one with a towel on top was laid out for Dean. Spread out in the corners and up front were lamps that, to Dean, looked like large pink rocks, pulsating with light, and collections of candles in large, glass vases. He eyed them with intent and noticed they stood firmly placed in a thick layer of sand.

Along the far wall was a wooden bench, stretching from wall to wall, where Dean also noticed a bunch of water bottles, all reusable, all full.

“Multidimensional being, our Cassie,” Balthazar nodded. “Let’s get you in on the Bikram. You won’t regret that, at least.”

Regrets were kinda far from Dean’s mind, by now, as he breathed in deep and his eyes fully adjusted to the pleasantly soft light.

Admittedly, Cas was always a sight to behold, but in a similar getup to Meg’s the effect was instant. Despite the humidity, Dean’s mouth went dry and he licked his lips several times over, trying to tear his eyes away from Cas, moving about. His skin was visibly damp, flashing him the wings on his shoulders, peeking out from under the racer back.

“Hey, guys. Hydration, first and foremost. Half is regular water. The other half is herbal tea.”

Cas waved towards the bench, signalling for them to take as many bottles as they wanted. Dean picked up two.

“Meg, Bal, go ahead and start with your warm-up, as slow as you can… Is there anything you want me to pay attention to this session?”

“I’m quite good,” Balthazar said, rolling his shoulders and stretching his arms above his head, as he got onto the mat. “Maintenance, mostly.”

“My sleep has been a bit sketchy these past weeks,” Meg said. “So a few headaches. Other than that…” She shrugged.

“Okay, good to know. I’ll get Dean settled in.”

“You do that, Clarence,” Meg winked.

With a gentle eye roll, Cas turned his attention to Dean, who was toeing at the towel as he set his bottles down. A soft frown between his brows formed, when Cas noticed the outfit, but he didn’t comment and instead walked Dean through the basics of Bikram.

“Clarence?” Dean asked, with a smile.

“A nickname I’ve never quite understood.”

“Really? With those wings on you?”

Castiel made a face at him, squinting like a cat.

“Would it kill you to watch a movie, Cas?”

Which is when he realised that there hadn’t been television in the living room. So that made sense.

“Don’t bother,” Meg called over her shoulder as she extended her arms up to the skies.

Cas shot her a glare, but she ignored him with a soft giggle.

“Are there any injuries I need to know about?”

Dean tilted his head in confusion. “How do you mean?”

“Besides your shoulder and back issue, is there anything else related to bodily injuries I ought to know? Bikram yoga can be intense, especially if you’ve never done it before.”

Fiddling with his sleeve, Dean gave it some thought, back-tracking through his medical file.

“Well, I broke my arm in a fight once, when I was about 16, but that healed nicely. Two motorbike accidents in my twenties.”

Cas’ raised eyebrows had Dean grinning. “Not my fault. People can’t drive and they’re blind to everything, unless it’s bigger than them.”

“Sure. How did those heal?”

“My back problem is probably a remainder of that,” Dean shrugged.

“Anything else?”

“I…”

Dean wasn’t sure if it counted as an injury. It had been so long ago.

“I, uhh, got burned as a kid. Severely. Like surgery level severe, but there’s still a fair amount of scarring.”

It took him several heartbeats to realise he was rubbing his hand up the scarred arm to his shoulder.

Somewhere along puberty, he stopped giving a rat’s ass about his scars. Chicks dug ‘em and Dean was all too aware of what else he had going for him to allow it to hold him back. He didn’t flaunt them either, not out of self-consciousness per se, but because he abhorred the questions. It was not a story to impress or lure people in with. In fact, the fewer people knew, the better. He didn’t want to share it with people who had no business seeing his naked skin. That right was reserved for whoever Dean chose. And when Dean chose someone, he generally felt at ease enough. Yet somehow, for some reason, shyness snuck up on him when it came to Cas. Which was ironic, because Cas was by far one of the kindest people he’d met in his life.

Even after all those years, the death of his mother made something seep into his tone. It wasn’t trauma. Not in the debilitating kind of way. Cas being who he was picked up on it instantly. His blue eyes flicked from Dean’s face back to his long sleeves and he gave a gentle nod, his mouth tightening a bit.

“How old were you?”

“Four.”

“So they are old scars.”

He could tell Cas wanted to ask him how it’d happened, the way he glanced at Meg and Bal.

“Yeah,” Dean nodded with a sigh. “Yeah, they’re old scars. They don’t hurt.”

“Hmm, I doubt they will give you issues then,” Cas said, maintaining a neutral tone. “That said, it still won’t be very pleasant in that outfit. If you want, I can lend you one of my long sleeves? They’re the same fabric as this.”

He tugged the hem of the racer back and Dean reached out to feel it.

“Come on,” Cas said, touching Dean’s wrist. “It’s just outside. You can change into it quickly.”

Dean gave a curt nod. Self-consciousness was not an unfamiliar feeling (pudge, anyone?), but it had been a long time. Partly because he hadn’t gotten naked in front of anyone in recent memory, and back when he had, the emotional investment had been different. Or lacking entirely.

He followed behind Cas into the hallway, where Cas zoned in on a chest, opened it and held out a lightweight shirt with long sleeves.

“I’ll go back inside. Just join us when you’re good, okay?”

“Sure thing. Uhh… thanks.”

Cas shot him a warm look as he went back inside. It took Dean a bit longer than it ought to switch his clothes for Cas’ shirt. He grimaced when it clung to his body in ways none of his clothing did, but it felt lighter and covered what needed covering.

_ Neutral distance, my ass _ , he thought.

And he was of two minds when it came to Cas all of a sudden. Grateful Cas had left, out of respect, he supposed, and at the same time wishing he’d been able to quickly strip and allow Cas to see him. Scars and all.

_ Reel it back in, Winchester. _

He left his clothes on the chest and returned inside, where Cas was working in silence with Meg and Bal. The positions they held were familiar, one of the warrior positions, but even slower than the regular yoga he’d gotten used to.

“Dean, if you’ll join us,” Cas smiled, eyes gentle. “You’ll notice Bikram is a more even paced. It’s necessary, considering how warm it is.”

Dean got on his mat, spaced his feet out, mirroring Cas and followed the sound of his voice into a new experience. The heat got to him quite fast, but Cas kept a close eye on him. There was no way to tell the time inside this hot, dimly lit cocoon, and he followed the pace given, sweat breaking out within seconds. He was stupid grateful for Cas’ shirt, because his own would have been soaked and heavy, logging him down.

“Repeat these a few times.”

Cas stuck close to him, taking his time to offer help. The heat negated any kind of temperature contrasts between the two of them, muting the touches considerably. He leaned into them, subtly, but found Cas not lingering. Not as much as he would have liked him to.

“Take a quick hydration break.”

“Again?”

“You’ll feel better,” Meg said.

She joined in the break, though he suspected that was more for his sake than her own. There was an intuitive aspect to this class, which might be typical to Bikram or just Cas’ approach, but it worked. Dean laid down on his back, slowly feeling his way through a few floor exercises, while Cas worked with Meg, listening to his voice. There was a mild nausea, but nothing near as bad as Sam had warned him for and Dean felt a sense of accomplishment for it.

“Okay, guys, I think we’re done for the day. I would advise finishing your third bottle before you head into the shower. I’d normally have you stick around longer, but I gotta go meet Anna.”

“Alright, thanks for this one, Clarence,” Meg smiled. She looked visibly more clear-headed than before. “I’ll wire you the money, as usual. Give Anna our love.”

Dean made to fold the towel and Cas reached a hand to him. “Dean, ’s all good. Don’t worry about the clean-up, I’ll handle it when I’m back home.”

“You sure?”

Cas smiled, eyebrows shooting up in sweet surprise, his hand dropping to his side. “I’d happily let you help if I didn’t have to leave. Okay if I text you for the next one?”

Dean nodded and made his way out with Meg and Bal to get a quick shower. By the time he was done, the two of them were still in the showers and he hurried to the living area, in the hopes of getting a few more moments with Cas. It was in mild surprise that he noticed Cas had showered as well, which, considering how efficient Dean was about those, was a feat.

“You’re already done?”

Cas smirked. “I prefer long showers, but we ran a bit late.”

“Bit of a thing we got goin’, huh?”

“Kinda,” Cas admitted, with a tilt of his head. “I don’t mind it. You okay?”

“Yeah, I am. Got a touch nauseous, but nothing too terrible and it did my bones well, it seems.”

A contentment oozed into every part of Cas. “That’s great, Dean. I… I’m sorry if I pried, but we do need to ask these kind of things.”

“Makes sense. Don’t worry about it, Cas,” Dean assured him. “You painted that?”

Cas looked at the far wall, as if remembering the painting’s existence.

“I did a long time ago,” he nodded. “Haven’t painted in a while.”

“I like it. The eyes… I mean, I’m hardly an expert. Haven’t had much time for the arts,” Dean said. “But there’s something about it that draws you in. And the wings… they look like your tattoos, am I right?”

Cas looked surprised. “Ahh, yes, I designed them myself. Few people notice.”

Dean flustered, rubbing his hand in the back of his neck. Because he’d very much more than noticed the tattoos and just as good as admitted that out loud. He wanted to say more, but Meg and Bal returned. He got was swept away on the current of all of them having to leave the house.

With Meg and Bal getting into their car, Cas cursed and jogged back to the house. “Hold on!”

“I thought you were in a hurry to meet Anna!” Dean called to his back.

Cas vanished for mere minutes and returned holding a jar of golden liquid.

“I almost forgot,” he smiled widely, breath visible on the air. “Honey from my bees. Goes well with your tea and quite a few stews, if you’d believe it.”

“I believe you,” Dean said, folding his hand around the jar, where they both held onto it for a few heartbeats too long. “Thanks, man. Cookies or soup?”

“Pardon?” Cas blew air into his palms.

“I’ll bring something next time. Cookies or soup?”

The smile got impossibly wider and gummy and Dean’s heart somersaulted. “Soup. Definitely soup, in this weather. I’ll text you for a new appointment.”

Before things could get more awkward, such as how he felt like he wanted to hug and/or kiss Cas goodbye, he got moving towards his pimpmobile. He and Cas waved at each other like idiots, as they each pulled off of the driveway in different directions.

That evening, Dean’s body was more relaxed than it had been in months. His mind was a touch restless, but not in an unsettling kind of way… it was a mixture of two sentiments. He wanted to spend more time with Cas, which right now he couldn’t. So he needed to channel it elsewhere, into the need for action he felt brewing inside him.

Finally, he had the courage to face item number one on his to-do list.

He booked an extra session with Missouri, specifically geared towards figuring out his job situation, where the new boundaries were and what his next step ought to be. Pleased with himself at that, he cooked up a pasta dish with a shitload of cheese and ate it in the couch, feet curled up comfortably.

He was surprised when his phone buzzed shortly after dinner.

>> Hello, Dean, sorry to kick you out like that earlier. I hope you enjoyed the first session. How does Wednesday sound for you? Castiel

Cas sounded awfully business-like on paper and it had Dean grimacing, because he didn’t like it. It was cute, but still…

**< < Heya Cas, I can feel it in my muscles, pretty sure I’m gonna get some sound sleep. Thanks for that ;) Wednesday sounds good. D.**

Dean winced at the wholly inadequate answer and typed up a second one, sending it before he could chicken out of it. Chances were he wasn’t going to be saying it out loud any time soon.

**< < Figure you ought to know that I know which element had such a big impact on me. I mean, you really made a difference, Cas, for what it’s worth. What time for Weds?**

>> That’s worth a lot, actually. Late afternoon? You can stay over for dinner after, if you like.

Dinner plans included? With Anna, probably. Sure, why not.

**< < I figure people like you need to know, for all you put into your work. And sure, I’d like to see what you can cook up.**

>> Coming from a surgeon that’s saying something, so thank you. For what it’s worth in return, I dug up my painting material. I’ll see you Wednesday. Good night, Dean.

**< < Good night, Cas.**

Dean stared at his phone, smiling like an idiot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in one day! There's more of that ahead, when we near Valentine's Day for friggin' obvious reasons. We gotta earn that rating after all.
> 
> The next installment is in two days, the 3rd of February, which will be another shorter one.
> 
> I love you lot for being here, love you for reading, love you either way if you comment or not. They remain stupidly welcome of course.
> 
> Love,  
> Mal


	19. February 3rd, 2020

**Monday, February 3** **rd** **2020**

“How was therapy?”

“Enlightening,” Dean said without a hint of sarcasm.

They were at The Bunker, because he’d bailed on them on Saturday. Their table was full of wire baskets of hot chips, cutting boards with fresh burgers, glasses of whiskey and bottles of beer.

“Do tell,” Charlie said, tossing the hot fry she’d picked out of the basket from one palm to the other in an attempt to cool it faster.

“It’s too early to say,” Dean shrugged. “As in, I don’t know what it’s gonna be. But we’re exploring other options.”

Gabriel swirled his glass of whiskey, eyeing Dean in wonder. “Wait, you mean you’re getting out of medicine? You worked your ass off for it.”

“You don’t say, Gabe, I was there, remember? Keep your pants on. I ain’t making any rash decisions, but I think we all agree something’s gotta give. And if I keep doing the same thing, expecting a different outcome… Well, I think there’s an expression for that.”

“He’s got a point,” Sam said, leaning his weight into Dean’s shoulder.

“Aaah, haht, haht, haht.” Gabriel panted, having shoved hot fries in his mouth, and gulped down Sam’s beer.

Sam watched Gabe with a mild expression on his face, which held the line between loving and judgmental, a feat that never failed to impress Dean.

“What is this? An IQ test between the two of you?”

Charlie stuck out her tongue.

“Thanks, Sunflower.” Gabe pulled through, shooting Sam a sweet smile, who just shook his head, turning his attention back to Dean. 

“I hope you find something.”

“I trust we will,” Dead nodded.

“When did you say you’re seeing Cas again?” Charlie asked.

“We’neFday,” Dean muttered around a mouthful of hamburger.

“Have you figured out Anna’s relation to Cas yet?”

“Status quo.”

“Can’t you just bloody ask?” Gabriel asked.

“Have you two been watching Harry Potter? He’s picking up slang. And, you’re right, I probably should.”

“Then why don’t you?”

“I don’t want to risk it… Suppose she’s his girlfriend, then I’ll make it awkward. Suppose she’s not his girlfriend, I still risk making it awkward. He’s just…”

“I swear to Cthulhu, if you say ‘ _ he’s just being nice _ ’ one more time,” Charlie huffed, rolling her head back. “I’ll tie you down until I can talk sense into you.”

Dean ignored Charlie’s empty threat. Besides, tying him down was hardly punishment. Granted, Charlie tying him down was probably a bad idea, because he’d end up covered in glue and glitter.

“But he might just be nice, and come on, guys… I’d be hard-pressed to ignore the impact his classes have had. He’s had. Not to mention it’s still… I’m paying him for this. I don’t need to risk losing all of this on the off chance he and I might hit it off. Only to then have him realise what a mess I really am and…”

He waved a hand at the rest of that ‘what if’.

“You’re not a mess, Dean. You never were.”

Dean shot her a glare that could boil water.

“You weren’t,” Charlie insisted. “It’s called going through a rough patch. I’ve been there, if you recall. It can happen to any of us.”

“Uh-uh,” Dean grunted. “My ducks are not resembling any kind of row, alright? Mine are drunk squirrels, as you well know.”

“Squirrels are cute. Cut yourself some slack,” Sam said.

Gabriel grinned. “At least he stopped saying that Cas isn’t his type, right.”

That was true. He had. Because by now it was the other way around. Dean strongly doubted he was Cas’ type. And he figured he needed to sort his squirrels out some more, before venturing into anything romantic and risk letting Cas down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I'm making him be an idiot, alright? But I like to think that his reasoning holds water from his somewhat lacking in self-esteem burned-out 'what is my purpose even?' perspective.
> 
> But we're closing in. The next installment is on Wednesday, so in two days! If you wanna yell at me in the comments, please don't. If you wanna throw violently loving confetti, I'm game.
> 
> Much love,  
> Mal


	20. February 5th, 2020

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas gave a gentle shrug, his eyes falling to Dean’s glass expectantly, and Dean clinked them together. The smile Cas shot him was sincere, infectious, the kind that warmed him up from the inside. He nipped the whiskey, humming pleasantly as the heat of it hit the back of his throat and the peaty taste was released.
> 
> Anna’s absence was a tangible nagging in the back of his mind, but he decided to steer clear of it. Yoga session, dinner. He’d go home after this. No shenanigans. Whatever decided to stick to him, he’d deal with at home, alone.

**Wednesday, February 5** **th** **2020**

“I can’t believe you,” Castiel said. “It’s too cold for this, especially after the session we just had.”

He hopped from one foot to the other as he rubbed the sides of his arms, his face scrunched up in a very unhappy squint. Dean almost took pity on him. The burn in his muscles softened that considerably. That and he might be showing off… Just a tad.

“Cas, I’ve been meaning to take a look at your car for a while. It’s the least I can do with everything you’ve done for me.”

“For which you  _ pay  _ me. This…”

“This is easy as pie,” Dean grinned, leaning over the engine. He also didn’t want to hear the word ‘payment’ or ‘money’ anymore, when it came to Cas. “There we go.”

He’d brought some of his basic tools and materials. There was nothing wrong with Cas’ car, besides a lack of maintenance. Dean dropped the hood back down and patted it, beaming at Cas.

“He just needs some lovin’ on the regular, that’s all.”

Arms crossed, Cas eyed him fondly. “Don’t we all.” 

When his heart gave a few fiercer  _ ba-dums _ at those words, Dean blinked and refocused his attention on wiping down his hands with the rag. He worried his lower lip, as he packed his stuff and put it back in Baby’s trunk.

“Thank you, Dean.”

“No worries,” he muttered.

“Now let’s go back inside. I’m starving.”

He followed Cas back into the house.

*

They sat at the massive, square dinner table in Cas’ living area. Dean felt like a living radiator, the effects of the Bikram yoga so tangible his skin seemed to give off heat like the sun. He put a hand to his cheeks, as he nursed the bottle of tea and watched Cas walk up to the table with two plates of steaming food.

“You want something stronger to drink?”

Dean eyed the plate. A steak seared and cooked to perfection, a mix of vegetables and roasted potatoes, which had his mouth watering.

“Yeah, actually, I think I do.”

“Excellent, I’ve got just the thing.”

Cas walked around the table to the heavy wooden cupboard and plucked out a bottle and two small glasses, shaped like pears. The glasses made a delicate  _ tink _ as he set them down and Dean smiled at the sound of the cork popping, before he poured golden liquid in.

Dean let out a hum of appreciation at the sight and lifted the glass to his nose. A soft sliding sound as Cas pulled his chair under him and sat down with a groan. A keen eye on his face, eyes closed, Dean wondered.

“You alright?”

Blue eyes flew open and he refocused on Dean instantly, lifting the glass at him, leaning closer. “Yes, it’s just been a busy few weeks, it seems. And my hip has been acting up.”

“Your hip?”

“Titanium,” he said, gesturing at his right hip. “I used to run, but that caught up with me.”

“Ouch,” Dean winced. “I hope the recovery went smooth? How long has it been?”

“It went smooth enough,” he nodded. “Four years now and going strong. One of the reasons I got into yoga and also why…”

Dean snapped his fingers at him. “Why you don’t seem overjoyed during the high intensity interval lessons. Now it makes sense!”

“Exactly. Was it that fucking obvious?”

Huh, apparently fatigue and/or pain took out some of Castiel’s polite filter. “I dunno, man, I noticed.”

_ Tack something on to make it not sound like you were studying him like he was under a microscope! _

“Maybe cause I felt your pain.”

“Maybe,” Cas smiled. “Which is also why I’ve been doing more private sessions.”

“Like tonight?”

“Yes.”

Dean inhaled for a second to get more oxygen to his brain, but for all the good that did him the question made it out anyway. “For just one person?”

His heartbeat thumped in his ears as he waited, holding Cas’ gaze. His face was inscrutable.

“Most have more people. Bad business otherwise.”

Cas gave a gentle shrug, his eyes falling to Dean’s glass expectantly, and Dean clinked them together. The smile Cas shot him was sincere, infectious, the kind that warmed him up from the inside. He nipped the whiskey, humming pleasantly as the heat of it hit the back of his throat and the peaty taste was released.

Anna’s absence was a tangible nagging in the back of his mind, but he decided to steer clear of it. Yoga session, dinner. He’d go home after this. No shenanigans. Whatever decided to stick to him, he’d deal with at home, alone.

“How’s the painting coming along?”

“Oh, good heavens,” Cas said, eyes widening. “It’s been a while and I can fucking tell.”

“Are the brushes wrestling you down?”

Cas wiggled an open hand at him, flashing him the evidence of the paint on his skin. “That and the paint. But I’m going to trust it’s kind of like riding a bike.”

Dean waggled his eyebrows at him, giving him a hopeful ‘ _ hand it over _ ’ gesture. “I doubt you’d be willing to share the results?”

The answer was instant and adamant, and,  _ no,  _ Dean wasn’t disappointed. “Oohh, no, no, not quite. Sorry, but not yet.”

Ah, not  _ yet _ . Dean smirked at the sudden shyness that overtook Castiel, as he looked at Dean unsurely and cast his eyes down.

“But painting has carved out a moment to myself every time I do.”

“That’s good, right?”

“I can recommend, yes.”

Castiel stifled a yawn and Dean’s curiosity swirled in his chest like the whiskey in his glass.

“You kinda owe me a story, don’t you?” Dean asked, as he dug into the food.

Cas tilted his head at him. “As in… a… bedtime story? I’m confused.”

_ Bed…? _

Dean blinked at Cas in wonder, mutely mouthing the word back at him. “That makes two of us now. Where are you in your head?”

“Tired and a touch distracted. It happens more often than you’d think, especially at home. I think I recall now though.” He waved a reassuring fork-with-steak at Dean.

“Alright. If you feel up to it.”

“It’s not a massively big deal. It impacted us, but it’s not… It isn’t exactly cheerful either. We’ll exchange stories?”

After a moment’s consideration, Dean gave a nod. That was only fair and he had wanted to talk with Cas. Just sit and be and talk and get to know him beyond the gym instructor. The beekeeper-painter was already a generous part of that and it had him twitching his nose in curiosity, as if he caught a scent.

Willing to share some of his own, which he hadn’t really done beyond Sam. Gabe and Charlie knew, but somehow it felt different. Under Cas’ ocean-blue gaze, he experienced an almost physical tug at his core.

It was as if Cas smelled it on the air as much as he did.

“A fire…?” Cas nudged gently.

Dean inhaled quickly.

“Uhh, yeah… A house fire. I was four, Sammy… about six months old. The cause was never really clear, but it scorched our house to the ground. Bad luck, the insurance said.” He chewed his food, quirking an eyebrow. “We lost our Mom. Dad barely made it out, trying to save her, forced me out of the house with Sammy.”

Dean pursed his lips. The story was more second-hand narration than actual memory. Except for the heat of the flames.

“When Dad came out without her… I ran back in, while he was dealing with the emergency services. Dad almost lost it, well, me.” He gave a shrug, as if to say ‘ _ What are you gonna do? _ ’.

And there it was for the assteenth time in his life, the moment where people inevitably felt the need to tie that moment to his job, to his unrelenting need to put people, more specifically, children back together. Especially considering his specialisation in burn wounds.

By now, he’d given the notion sufficient thought, both on his own and in therapy, to know that, yeah, it was undoubtedly how it started out. Probably borderline delusional to try and deny it. However, that did not mean it hadn’t changed into something else entirely over the years.

And Dean was cool with it.

Cas sat quite still and Dean caught the twitching of his fingers.

“Tell me, Dean…”

_ Here we go _ .

“How does a surgeon  _ not  _ incorporate steady work-outs in their daily life?”

His brain ceased lining up the arguments he’d been preparing and it became blissfully quiet for a second. Dean barked a loud laugh, leaning back in his chair. It took several minutes of this, before he recovered sufficiently.

“That’s what you wanna ask me?”

“Yes. Because I don’t know if our stories need a lot of questions. I’m not sure. People tend to ask too many questions.”

“Amen to that,” Dean said. “Usually people ask me if I started doing what I did, because of her. Which only goes so far. In truth…”

This he hadn’t told anyone. Not even Sam.

Chewing mindfully, a finger sliding over the metal of the fork, Cas looked at him, those eyes drawing Dean in. It was only now that Dean noticed there was no music playing and the silence hadn’t bothered him for a second. He’d grown accustomed to silence when he was on his own. To find solace in silence with someone else there, this was probably the first time.

“I wanted to be a firefighter first. Even tried out for it as soon as I was old enough.”

Cas’ hands fell still to the sides of his nearly empty plate, face intent, undoubtedly reading Dean’s body language.

“Failed, obviously,” Dean said, crooking a half-smile. He shrugged. “Wasn’t psychologically fit for the job.”

Cas hummed softly and to Dean, the sound was beginning to have a Pavlovian effect. It made him smile, want to lean in and, at times, triggered memories of Inverted Cas. 

“And true to form, I imagine you beat yourself up over that?”

Well,  _ duh _ . “What makes you think that?” he asked as innocently as he could.

Cas’ gentle eye roll was heartfelt in its huffiness and adorable, so Dean conceded with a shrug.

“Of course I did. For a while. I wanted to save other people’s moms or dads or whoever, cats even though I’m allergic.”

“Aww, really?”

“Uh-uh, not cripplingly so. But yeah,  _ that _ was Psychology 101, the firefighting.  _ And _ … It has resurfaced. Recently. Not in the same way, obviously.”

At this, Cas’ eyebrows shot up in genuine surprise. A feat in itself, as the man usually seemed so in control of everything. A twinkle lit up his face, but there was something else, Dean noticed, which he was hesitant to call worry.

“You want to switch to firefighting?”

“I’m thinking about it. They’re constantly short on people and I think I can make a big difference as a paramedic, with my background. Holy… hell, this is the first time I’ve said it out loud. This is weird.”

Cas waved an almost regal hand at that, as he reached for his glass with the other. “Weird is good.”

They chuckled in unison, Dean mirroring Cas’ gesture.

“I’ll drink to that.”

“Agreed.”

“How’s that for pragmatism, huh?”

“It is not a bad plan, Dean,” Cas said, catching the mild cynicism effortlessly. “As a paramedic, you’d still be using everything you’ve worked for.”

Cas crooked his head to the side, smirking into his glass. “Though I’ll admit, the physical test might be a bit of a challenge.”

“Oh, shit,” Dean mouthed around the last of his food. “I hadn’t thought of  _ that _ .”

Castiel laughed, a deep, vibrating sound, his whole body moving with it. He wiped his hand over his face at the last hiccupy chuckles, looking at Dean between his fingers. “You are something.”

Dean leaned forward, folding his arms on the table, licking his lips at the sight of this tired, happy Castiel.

“Pragmatism, my ass,” Dean muttered, but he couldn’t hold back a smile. “Can you help me if I do decide to go down that road?”

“Of course,” Cas grinned. “But you might not like the schedule.”

“I might surprise you.”

Because all of a sudden, he saw so much more time with Cas, just naturally unfolding before him and he loved it. There were ways to platonically love someone, right?

They talked for a while longer, until Dean saw how the fatigue weighed down Cas’ shoulders. As much as he wanted to remain in his orbit to soak up his presence, he felt bad for keeping him up. At Cas’ insistence, they set up a new day for the next Bikram session. It wasn’t until he was in Baby, on his way home, that he realised Cas’ story had not been told yet. He believed him when he said it wasn’t dramatic anymore. Dean wasn’t worried Cas didn’t have his ducks in a row. There was a calm he exuded that reassured him. 

But he still wanted to know. As much as Cas was willing to share.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did say I was dragging this out till Valentine's Day, right? Cause I will.
> 
> The next installment will be a double chapter on the 8th, so in three days! Doubles. Which tells you something.
> 
> Thank you for sticking with these boys and being so patient with them (me).
> 
> As always, your frustration is welcome in the comments!  
> Love,  
> Mal


	21. February 8th, 2020

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You have an outdoor sauna?! Why didn’t you say so last time?”
> 
> Cas smiled, quite pleased at seeing Dean’s reaction.

**Saturday, February 8** **th** **2020**

Dean stomped his feet into the gravel harder, trying to get them warm, as they walked around the back of the house. Anna insisted on a tour of the house, including the garden. He met all eight chickens of various sizes, plumage and temperament. Cas and Anna laughed when they sat down on the bench and one of the bigger ones, Rexie, side-eyed Dean, before trying to leap onto his knee. Dean scrambled out within seconds with an undignified yelp.

And yes, a bench in a chicken coop.

Fucking dinosaurs.

They got to the more interesting part of the garden where the big wooden shack was, Dean had spotted the first time around. It turned out to be a sauna, large enough to hold, unsurprisingly, six. Its windows were frosted and Dean found himself drawing a squirrel in the icy layer.

There was a small, round, cast iron table with four similar style chairs in front of it, where he and Cas sat down, while Anna cooed at the chickens from afar.

“You have an outdoor sauna?! Why didn’t you say so last time?”

Cas smiled, quite pleased at seeing Dean’s reaction.

“Cassie likes to spoil people,” Anna smiled. She leaned into Cas’ back, resting her cheek on top of his tousled hair. Castiel made googlies up at her, looking infinitely younger as he did so. Dean resisted the sigh, but only barely.

Was it possible to be fond enough of someone to be happy about how happy they made other people? If so, he was sure he reached that point. It smarted… the way melancholy could catch you off guard, like the sting of winter air, bursting in your lungs, making you hurt and feel alive at the same time. Your breath hitched, as you tried to adjust to the sensory and emotional onslaught, the colours around you turning to sounds and for the briefest second, the world made sense, because the brain could only focus on the here and now. It was pure in its pain.

That was what it felt like to see Cas. And Anna, perhaps.

“He always spoiled all of us, growing up.”

Dean shook his head, as he blinked. “Growing up?”

“Well, yes, he practically raised me,” Anna said.

She put her chin on Cas’ head, eyeing Dean from her vantage point, her arms dangling from Cas’ shoulders.

“Cassie didn’t tell you?”

“Raised you,” Dean echoed, lips moving like a fish’s mouth. “No, I don’t think he did. You’re…”

“His sister,” she beamed.

Dean winced when he saw the sparkle in her eyes and tried to look away, but the peal of bell-like laughter that followed was confirmation enough that he had not been as subtle as he thought. He quickly looked to Cas, who seemed blissfully unaware of the exchange. Granted, he couldn’t see Anna, but Dean was sure his face was a shameful open book right now.

“And I am meeting his other two sisters,” she added. “So you’ve got this baby all to yourself.”

“Right… right, because six of you in total, right? But you raised them?”

Dean gawped at Cas, his exasperation at the mere thought surely visible in every line of his face. “Shit, I had enough on my hands with Sam and Charlie.”

Anna smiled. “You raised your brothers too?”

“Sam, partly. Charlie’s a woman, for starters… and the little sister I never wanted. She had her parents, happy family. But she spent an inordinate amount of time with us, once dad stopped moving us around. After… Uh…”

He faltered, realising he was babbling, as he tried to play catch-up to Anna being Cas’  _ sister _ . It was rearranging shit in his head, opening up pathways he’d been trying to keep closed off. No access! Turn back!

Anna’s eyes warmed, as she walked up and grabbed Dean’s head to plant a kiss on his forehead. He was caught sufficiently off guard to splutter at the gesture, gripping the arms of his chair, but she was gone again before he could think of a better response.

“Gonna pack my stuff, Cassie. You boys have a good time!”

He stared after her as she bounced towards her car and within seconds sped off. Without taking his eyes off the spot she disappeared from, he addressed Cas, more bemused now than he’d been all the times before when Cas had surprised him.

“ _ You boys _ ?” Dean echoed. “What are we, fifteen?”

“She’s the youngest of six with three older brothers. We were somehow always her boys,” Cas smiled.

“So your story is that you raised five siblings?”

Tilting his head back, Cas looked at the skies, his breath puffing out in clouds. “Not really. I had some help. Naomi and Lucifer are close-ish to my age. Hannah, Michael and Anna are the youngest.”

“What happened to your parents?”

“We lost mom when Anna was born,” Cas said. “Bad luck, you called it, right?”

Dean watched as a shadow was cast across Castiel’s face, even though the sky was wintery crisp clear. On instinct, he reached over and put his hand on the table, next to Cas’, allowing his fingers to touch his. They felt cold to the touch and he knew they shouldn’t stay out here too long. But the sun was out, Cas was touching him and the moment was theirs.

Cas’ hand moved under his own, turning around, their fingers hooking together. It seemed to mesmerise both of them.

“Dad couldn’t quite cut it. He tried, for sure. But three teenagers of varying ages, two pre-pubescents and a newborn… he ran himself ragged and ran lost.”

Dean hummed a sound of understanding.

Cas gave a gentle shrug. “He died in a car crash. Depleted would be the word, rather than exhausted, if one wants to put a fine point on it.”

Dean inhaled sharply. “How old were you guys?”

“Luci… was 19 and already working, which was our only saving grace to not have the family ripped apart. Naomi turned 18 that year. I was 15. Mike was 11, but behaved like he was my age. Hannah was 9.”

“You’re telling me the government was okay with the lot of you fending for yourselves?”

“Not one bit.”

Cas laughed, throwing his head back at the memories that visibly flooded him. His body moved with the sentiment and they lost their point of contact. Dean folded his hands, rubbing his palms for warmth and to hide how he felt a need to rub his tingling fingers together.

“Oh, no, they hated it, but we were a bunch of shits and we had a damned good lawyer. At the time, at least.”

“So that’s what you meant when you said you almost ended up living in a cardboard box?”

“Sort of,” Cas smiled. “Dad’s inheritance was the house and they tried everything they could to steal that out from under us. There was a fair bit of money, a sizeable sum in itself. But not when you’re six kids, who have no real concept of value or priorities.”

Dean smiled. “And a complete upset mess. Can attest to that. Sam and I didn’t have a lot of money, but what I did make hustling was spent on the worst kinds of food. Or presents for Sam.”

“Hmm,” Cas hummed, eyeing Dean closely. When he didn’t keep talking, Dean pursed his lips and decided to elaborate.

“I told you how we lost mom. Our dad stuck around, but in the dysfunctional kind of way. I sort of… filled the gaps where I could, but that often meant Sam and I got up to no good.”

“So the government didn’t get involved?”

Dean shook his head. “Nah. We moved around too often. The car…” He thumbed at Baby in the driveway. “She was our home rather than the motels we stayed at.”

“How is your dad now?”

No one ever asked that.

“He died a few years ago, but he was settled by then. Calmer. A grouch, but in a weirdly okay-ish grinchy kind of way.”

Cas leaned closer, squinting at Dean with interest. “That’s a lot of nuances heaped together.”

Dean smiled and briefly glanced upwards. “The man was a keg of contradictions. Kinda like you said. Not a festering wound.”

Cas nodded. “Correct. Certain times of year can be difficult.”

Dean narrowed his eyes at Cas and nodded in agreement. Cas squinted as if confused by the turn of events.

“How did we end up here?”

“The sauna, I think. You spoiling people.”

“Ah, yes. It’s true, not going to deny that. Being the eldest, Naomi and Luci worked their asses off, foregoing their education until much later in life. I worked half my ass off, but also kinda ran the household. So I made the calls for some of the investments for the younger ones. Hence…”

Cas pointed at the sauna, the greenhouse and the chicken coop. “We used to have a giant trampoline for most of Anna’s childhood, but we outgrew that.”

“Really? I imagine it can still be fun. Playing. Hell, Sammy’s behaving like he’s ten years old again with the dog he got himself and all three of us were playing rattail a while ago.”

“I thought I noticed a bruise on you…”

He eyed Cas keenly. Dean was at a loss for words, which didn’t happen that often. Not only at Cas’ story, but at the kinship he felt… The ease with which he spoke of it, even with a shadow haunting his expression, was staggeringly kind and serene. It was too much, too intense in such a short span of time. Surely he was tossing his skull around like a purebred idiot, yet Dean found he couldn’t stop himself being drawn to Cas. Consistently. Stubbornly.

“I don’t know what to say… I’m impressed.”

Cas’ eyebrows went up, his face turning to curious scrutiny, as he licked his bottom lip.

“Says the idealistic surgeon, who apparently also raised his younger brother and an adopted sister?”

Dean rolled his eyes. “I take no credit whatsoever for Charlie. She’s a menace.”

Cas humoured him with a soft smile and expectant eyes, which had Dean huffing.

“Cas, you dropped out of school to help raise siblings after losing both parents.  _ And _ you stayed… like this.” He scrunched up his face and waved a hand, encompassing all of Castiel, which made Cas’ face do a trick.

“What does that,” Cas imitated Dean’s hand gesture, “Even mean?”

“It means that for someone who’s seen some shit, you remain relentlessly kind.”

“You make it sound aggressive,” Cas grinned.

“Because it is kinda aggressive in its persistence.”

“Yet you still dodge my right to be impressed with you.”

Dean blew warm air into his hands. “If you insist. We can be equally impressed.”

“And freezing.”

Dean cast a look over his shoulder, smirking. “Perhaps we can put that sauna to good use?”

“Good idea. Let me fire her up. You can go change inside.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a double chapter today! I did say at some point this all started for the sake of making out in a sauna, right?
> 
> *hums happily*
> 
> Yell some love at me in the comments, please?
> 
> Much love in turn to you all for being here,  
> Mal


	22. February 8th, 2020 part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shifting with slow, deliberate gestures, Cas moved about until his legs were dangling on either side of Dean. “May I?”
> 
> Dean’s face must have betrayed him, thinking back to the previous time Cas asked him. When his reply had the word ‘manhandled’ in it. Back then he thought the remark had missed its mark entirely.
> 
> The way Cas’ gaze heated up, its muted echo today didn’t.

**Saturday, February 8** **th** **2020**

Dean stood in front of the mirror in the dressing room.

_Sure, suggest the sauna, Winchester._

People tended to go naked there. He forgot about that.

Which, for a split deranged second, had seemed like the best and worst plan ever. Lucky for him, Cas was a professional.

He had lent him a pair of swimming trunks. Their sizes more or less matched. He discovered that he liked wearing Cas’ clothes, so much so that he questioned whether his 40 something brain was turning to mush and regressing to its primal state. At this rate, soon all he wanted to do was make out with Cas. And who’s to say that wasn’t a stellar idea?

Exactly which part of them sitting in the sauna together covered his healthy dose of Bikram yoga was beyond him.

He looked in the mirror. The scarring wasn’t even that bad anymore, compared to what it had been. He slid a hand over his arm to his shoulder, feeling the uneven skin, and trailed it down to his ribs. There was more across his back where he couldn’t reach.

He didn’t want to waste time in doubt. He wanted to be near Cas, not second-guessing his scars or thinking too hard on Anna _not_ being Cas’ girlfriend. So he grabbed a towel, threw it in the back of his neck, and walked to the rear exit of the house.

Ah, shit. Cold. Snow. Wet.

He went to the front of the house to get his boots and brought them to the back door. He stepped into them barefoot. Taking a few quick breaths, Dean pushed the door open and walked into the cold, letting out a vexed squeak, just as Cas came out of the sauna, dressed in a bathrobe. Cas’ mouth turned to an ‘o’, eyes wide, when he saw Dean. Whether this had to do with his lack of clothing, his scars or the fact that he was hopping through the snow like a bunny, Dean had no idea.

“Dean! Goddamnit!”

Holy shit, Cas had a booming voice on him, if he chose to use it. Dean trotted up to Cas, grinning, his breath puffing out and he danced from one foot to the other, feeling goosebumps break out all over his body. “What?”

Eyes flashing, Cas opened his arms at him in disbelief and, pushing the door open, gestured inside. Dean wasn’t sure, but he thought he saw his eyes catch on Dean’s chest. “I have bathrobes! Get inside. You’ll catch your death.”

“Your dad is showing,” Dean smirked. “I’m a lot sturdier than you take me for.”

Dean made to slip past him. Up close, he was unable to resist the massive, soft, fluffy bathrobe or what it hid from sight, and Dean splayed a hand on his chest, as he side-stepped him.

Cas’ eyes fell to his hand and Dean sensed him lean in for a split second. His face was excruciatingly soft, as his gaze trailed from Dean’s hand up his arm to his shoulder, across the scars. Dean’s heart sped up, but Cas cut through the moment, his eyes finding Dean’s once more, eyes narrowed.

“My dad is showing,” he grunted, tone indignant. “What a teenage thing to say.”

Dean toed off his boots in the first compartment as he looked around, shivering at the contrast. “You’ve called me a brat before, haven’t you?”

“Did I say it out loud?”

“You sure did.”

“Something tells me it won’t be the last time.”

Dean squinted a smug smile at him and pushed open the second door. The comforting fragrance of wood enveloped him, humidity latching onto his skin.

“Oh, jeezes, this is awesome,” he said on a content exhale.

He inhaled, the moisture on the air palpable as it entered his lungs. The sauna was big enough to hold six people comfortably, in three layers across two walls. Attached to the third wall, was a pile of stones, encased in a wooden box, a cloud of steam coming off it. There were four large towels on the benches, two on the highest levels on one side, two on the lowest levels on the other, giving Dean ample choice.

“Hot air rises,” he muttered.

Cas joined him and Dean did his utmost not to ogle the man, clad in only swimming trunks. Granted, he’d gotten an eyeful on the regular during classes, but this wasn’t class. And there were no other people. And less clothes.

“Sorry?” Cas asked. 

Dean’s eyes snapped away from his bare chest. Clearly, that intention failed.

“Hot air rises,” he repeated.

Cas squinted at him, his voice lilting up. “True? Is this a test?”

Dean chuckled at the confusion. “No, but I think I’ll start at the bottom.”

“Indeed,” Cas said. “It’s also slightly warmer on that side.”

Dean rolled the towel he’d brought into a sausage and laid down on the lowest level, stuffing it in the back of his neck. Closing his eyes, he saw the colours on his eyelids shift and change, as Cas moved about. The sound of another spoonful of water poured over hot stones hissed into the air, the heat of the steam hitting him from the left. When he felt skin grazing his legs, he twitched into it, smiling at the fact that Cas chose to keep close.

A deep sigh followed, when Cas settled in, an arm’s length away.

They lay in silence for a while, Dean’s mind ticking into a slower setting like a metronome. He caught movement from behind his closed eyelids and fluttered them open. Cas was leaning up on one arm, looking down at him. Dean mirrored his head tilt, his heart skipping a few beats.

“You good?”

“Very,” Dean muttered. A brief silence stretched out. “You?”

“Very,” Cas smiled, as he laid back down.

Time slipped away and Dean allowed the wet heat to sink into his muscles and bones. There was a mild restlessness in his mind, but it was subdued, much like the sauna cabin muted the outside world. He squirmed around, trying to find the best position to make his body relax from head to toe. Angling the arm that was pressed into the wood, he bent it. His hearing picked up on every gesture on Cas’ end and suddenly he felt something brush against his arm. A quick peek revealed Cas’ arm dangling down, his fingertips butterflying over Dean’s skin. He let out a soft exhale, smiled and closed his eyes, pressing into the touch lightly. They remained like this for a long time, Dean even slipping in and out of a nap on occasion.

A nagging feeling in his shoulder disturbed the peace, so he tried to ignore it. When it wouldn’t subside, he let out an explosive sigh. Dean sat up too fast, causing his head to throb.

“Whoa, shit.” He reached out blindly, bumping into Cas.

Cas’ hand was on his shoulder immediately. “Dean?”

“I’m okay,” he muttered, leaning forward. “My shoulder… I sat up too fast.”

“Your shoulder?”

“The heat maybe, it’s annoying me.”

“The heat or the shoulder?”

“The shoulder,” he smiled, shooting a look over the annoyed joint at Cas.

Shifting with slow, deliberate gestures, Cas moved about until his legs were dangling on either side of Dean. “May I?”

Dean’s face must have betrayed him, thinking back to the previous time Cas asked him. When his reply had the word ‘manhandled’ in it. Back then he thought the remark had missed its mark entirely.

The way Cas’ gaze heated up, its muted echo today didn’t.

Puckering his lips, he tried to find words and came up short. So instead, he turned away and leaned into Cas silently, when he remembered something else. Practice makes perfect, right? Right. Words. He put enough of his inner brat into the reply as he deemed Cas would tolerate.

“Yes. Yeah, Cas, _you may_.”

A soft scoff was his reward, along with the blissful sound of Cas moving across the towel, sliding closer. When two large hands made contact with both shoulders, one skimming over his scars, Dean shivered. With a sigh, he pulled the towel into his lap, propped his elbows up and rested his forehead in his palms.

Whether Cas’ hands were real magic had never been far from his mind, his general existence a gift from another reality. To feel it confirmed once more, as he got to work on his neck and shoulders in earnest took his breath away in more ways than one. Dean truly believed that in this moment Cas earned the nickname Gabe had given Dean years ago. The groan that spilled out was involuntary and heartfelt. He’d blush about it later, when he could find fucks to give.

“Oooffff…”

Cas had the decency not to ask whether it felt good, but if a smug smile could travel on a breath and land in the back of his neck, Dean was sure he felt it happen. His face went slack, the pressure of his palms on his forehead helping the process along.

It was easier than he’d expected to let go of the worry. Cas’ hands moved evenly across both shoulders, gentle in their approach, but the force he put behind certain techniques unknotted his muscles, slow and steady. Dean recognised a skilful approach when subject to one. At least for a while.

Cas was flirting with the boundary of his neckline, as his fingers caressed higher every time he reworked his neck. Spots danced on the back of his eyelids as the insistent feeling travelled not just his skin, but his nerves. They hummed a tune on his heart strings about something intangible he was scared to name. Dean licked his lips and tried to control his exhale, when fingers carded through the short hair at the back of his head in a slow, intimate gesture.

Cas’ fingers spread out, finding various soft spots on his skull, turning in small, firm circles. His other hand snaked over his scarred shoulder, splaying across his collarbone, long fingers draped around his throat. Dean’s eyes flew open and his chest heaved with the sudden intake of air at the unexpected touch.

His arms moved without specific instruction, both hands snaking behind Cas’ legs as he leaned into him. His back made contact with Cas’ thighs, the towel and the wood. Which at this rate might become an intended pun real fast, Dean thought. The realisation hit belatedly that in leaning back, he’d robbed Cas of access to the focal point of his massage.

Dean shuddered when both hands started a slow descent across his chest and all of Cas folded around him like a very hot, grounding comforter. His eyes dropped down, bemused at the sight of Cas’ hands coming to rest over his heart. There was a connection there that had his insides lurching, a need pooling inside him.

He inhaled through his nose, as he tilted his head up in the limited moving space. Cas’ chin was on the top of his head, his throat moving against him as he swallowed. Lips tickled the top of his ear shell.

“This alright?”

Oh, jeezes, Dean cursed as he shivered through the effects of Cas’ voice going _lower_ in such proximity. The hairs at the back of his neck rose, as the rumble vibrated through him.

“Ya…” His voice broke and he cleared his throat. “Yeah.”

He slid his hands up Cas’ shins and rested them above the knee, squeezing the muscle. Cas protested, when one leg shot out and the other twitched violently. Dean chuckled and simply put his hands down on Cas’ thighs, his thumbs running circles. There was a brief moment, where neither of them moved, though he was sure his heartbeat was both audible and visible, steadily thumping away underneath Cas’ palm.

He blinked a few times, allowing what was happening to sink in. It wasn’t working, because his senses were overloaded by Cas’ presence, the feel of skin on skin and the rather dramatic shift in reality. From maintain your distance, albeit piss-poorly, to ‘if Cas’ hands slide down any further, we’re in a different ballpark’. Literally.

Without further thought, Dean cocked his head, baring his neck as he tried to get a look at Cas. Whether there had been words lined up, he’d never find out. When their eyes met, Cas seemed to drown in his, which was funny, cause Dean thought he was on that job. Blue eyes flicked to his lips and back, a question in them. Dean licked his lips by way of reply and the next second, Cas kissed him dumb, deaf and silent.

His hand traced up his chest and slotted around his neck in a claiming gesture that had Dean breathing hard into the kiss. He opened up under the touch. With that, slow but torturously delicious, their kiss got delirious in ways no first kisses had any business to. It was a good thing he had all of Cas for support.

When Cas’ free hand tugged at the back of his neck, so insistent, Dean scrambled to disentangle his arms and acquiesce. He broke their kiss in the process, Cas mewling in protest. The pouty, greedy frown Cas shot him was potentially one of the cutest expressions he’d seen on his face, ever. Dean chuckled breathily. He settled between Cas’ knees, bringing them at eye level. Cas pulled him back in, hands cupping his face. His hold was gentle, but strong. Reverent, almost.

They held the inch of distance, breathing in the same air. Cas’ thumbs traced his jaw, long fingers trailing down his neck in tingly pathways over his shoulders to the small of his back.

Letting slip a pleased moan, Dean slid both hands up Cas’ thighs, gripping tighter when they skimmed under the hem of his swimming trunks. The way Cas’ eyes darkened sent his heart skipping faster and he relished the idea of his self-control slipping out of his grasp. Cas captured his lips again, tongue lapping at his bottom lip. Dean leaned in with a groan, giving as much as he got. He breathed Cas in through his nose, as he tasted Cas’ mouth, getting lightheaded.

The tug at his hips didn’t take much convincing. Rising, Dean moved his hands to the wood on either side of Cas’ shoulders and sank into his lap, pushing him backwards. A delightful ‘oof’ sound was pushed out of Cas, as he looked up at Dean, wet lips parted in a soft, bemused smile. His eyes, though, told a different story… one that stole Dean’s breath from his lips. There was a reverence in his face that almost made Dean squirm, if it didn’t serve as a reassurance Cas seemed as affected as Dean felt.

When Cas pulled Dean down into his lap, grinding their dicks together, a deep need came over him. He panted open-mouthed against Cas’ warm lips. Yeah, okay, they were going _there_? His fingers dug into Cas’ skin, as he nipped at his lips.

“Cas…” he whimpered.

The way his name was fed back to him, thankfully, echoed his own sentiment. Cas skimmed his hands over Dean’s wet back, his fingers catching on his skin, and pressed down between his shoulder blades. He let his own hands travel down Cas’ chest, delighted when he discovered how sensitive his nipples were.

“Mmh, Dean!”

Cas arched into his touch, head falling back. Dean took the invitation, scooting back and leaned over to kiss him, before he started a path down nipping across the planes of his chest. He rolled his nipple between his lips, grazing it gently with his teeth and smiled when Cas squirmed under him.

Strong hands gripped him tight at his hip and shoulder. Cas hissed at him after a harsher nip and Dean licked an apology over the rosy bud, angling his head to look up with a smile in his eyes. Cas glowered fondly and nudged him with his thigh.

With a snicker, Dean moved with the sudden bump in the ass and slid his arm around Cas’ neck. Stars popped in front of his eyes for so many reasons at once, the peripheral vision blurring at the rush of blood. He held onto to Cas, squeezing his eyes shut, groaning when the pleasure was briefly replaced by a violent throbbing.

“Dean?” Worry palpable in his voice, Cas held him close.

“Mild head rush,” he muttered into his neck, eyes still closed.

A butterfly kiss to his cheekbone made him open them to find Cas swamping his vision. Dean smiled, at a loss for words and blinked when Cas smirked, a dangerously attractive uptick of the corner of his mouth.

“That good, huh?”

“Oh, shut up.”

He palmed Cas in the face, who dodged the gentle assault and licked at his wrist. Dean stilled in Cas’ lap, but his mind refused to do the same. They’d held each other’s gaze countless times before and yet somehow it felt different this time. It was almost painful in its intense depths. This couldn’t be real. Not in such a short span of time. Not with Dean a burnt-out mess at home. What had he done to deserve this?

“Cassie! You in there?”

“Christ on a fuckin’ cracker,” Cas cursed softly.

There was a split second of hesitation with them staring _some more_ at each other wide-eyed. Cas was decidedly _not_ letting go of him, until the outside door to the sauna opened. Dean slid out of his lap like water and flopped down on his belly, grunting at the uncomfortable feeling of his erection being pushed into the hard surface of the wood.

Quickly he folded his arms and rested his cheek on them, trying to get his breathing under control. A glance at Cas betrayed a similar mindset, though he was a lot smoother about it, as he draped his towel across his thighs and got to wiping down the back of his neck, as if they hadn’t just been making out.

Dean looked to the small window in the second door and found two gloved hands encircling a pale face.

Anna.

“Can I join? Hannah fell ill yesterday and she thought she was up for it, but then she wasn’t and ugh, I hate it when plans fall through! I’m bored!”

“What about Naomi?” Cas called back, a touch aggravated.

“Her hypochondriac played up, so she bailed.”

“Of course,” Cas muttered. His voice was softer when he addressed Dean. “You want to stick around a bit longer or…?”

Rubbing his tongue to the roof of his mouth, trying to see if he was still able to speak, Dean was sure he could taste Cas. He stared at the veins in the wood. “I don’t want to impose. Besides, I was supposed to get in some exercise…”

He trailed off, aware how that suddenly sounded, but failing to come up with an alternative. Or a nuance.

“You’re not imposing.”

Dean pushed himself up to look at Cas again and regretted it instantly. Cas held the towel loosely between his fingers, elbows resting on his knees. His eyes regarded Dean, guarded but attentive, with a touch of vulnerability in them, the intense side of comfortable.

Why did everything suddenly feel so awkward? Oh, wait, because it _was_ . Not two minutes ago, he had Cas’ tongue down his throat and vice versa, their dicks rubbing together, and now Cas’ baby sister- _not_ -his-girlfriend wanted to join in the sauna, and Dean had in fact come over for a bikram session, at least as far as Cas was concerned, so why the hell had this derailed the way it had?

The silence lasted too long and the lack of speech, or any kind of contact, likely got on Cas’ nerves, as his gaze flicked to the door.

“You can have it,” Cas called out to Anna, before Dean could figure out something halfway sensible to say. “I think we’re done.”

Which was probably true. It sounded final to his humming ears. As he got up, Dean adjusted his trunks, his erection waned for obvious reasons. Just as well, as he could only handle so much embarrassment at a time. Suddenly it was hard to meet Cas’ eyes.

“You sure?” Anna called from the other side.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Dean said, as he opened the door and smiled at her, knowing full well the glint in his eyes was off.

She stepped out of the way, taken aback slightly and sought her brother’s face. Dean didn’t wait for either of them to speak and bailed into the cold, making a beeline for the changing room. His shower was perfunctory, his mind set on getting back home before he could do anything else stupid or Cas decided to call him out.

By the time he got out, his hair spikey and wet, Cas was waiting for him in the kitchen. Dean figured he was tongue-tied. Literally. Kissed stupid to the extent he couldn’t figure out words to say to him, even if he had an inkling of what he might want to say.

He’d brought cash this time around, which felt all kinds of wrong when he handed it over. There was a brief moment, where their fingers touched around the money and then it got worse, when Cas refused it. Because they hadn’t done what Dean had come over for.

Cas held his eyes, as if trying to convey a message, but they weren’t on the same wavelength.

He ought to say something.

Or kiss Cas again.

Instead, they made eyes at each other, until Dean thought his heart would give out and he turned around. His heart in what felt like a permanent state of cardiac arrest, he left the house and drove Baby home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry, but not really.
> 
> Next installment is in two days! ^^
> 
> Gief me some love in the comments, if you have the heart/time/energy.
> 
> Either way, so pleased you're here.
> 
> Love,  
> Mal


	23. February 10th, 2020

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feelings.
> 
> Oh, no.

**Monday, February 10** **th** **2020**

Dean knew he shouldn’t be annoyed at the lack of contact. For starters, it had, for the most part, always been related to their yoga sessions. They hadn’t texted just for the sake of texting each other. (Sadly.) Secondly, they weren’t anything of any kind that merited his feelings. So the radio silence  _ really  _ shouldn’t bother him.

Yet it did.

It set an unpleasant feeling on permanent recoil in his gut. Dean also knew he shouldn’t be replaying what happened in his mind like his latest binge-worthy Netflix series. Or his own brand of heavenly torture.

Yet he was.

The memories were pleasant, despite their bittersweet undercurrent. The reason was simple.

He hadn’t expected Cas to show up in his life.

He hadn’t expected the impact he’d have on Dean’s life.

He hadn’t expected any of the  _ feelings _ he experienced when around Cas, or the churning feelings when he was  _ not  _ around Cas.

Both were challenging in nature. The former, because they scared him. The latter, because they made him feel like he was standing on quicksand.

_ Feelings _ .

Oh, no.

...

Despite all that, he wanted more.

Sam had been right. He should have been forthcoming.

Instead he’d allowed it to get murky and he’d behaved like a fool, undoubtedly leaving Cas to question his wits. And intentions. Likelier still that whatever they had going was over. So he fiddled with his phone, stomping down on the urge to text Cas, when a text message lit up his screen.

Castiel Novak.

His heart jumped into his throat and he scrambled upright in his couch.

**> > Dean, I must apologise for what happened last time. It was not very professional of me.**

Dean squinted at the words.

<< Cas, it’s okay.

**> > I should not have… Well, I don’t want to say taken advantage of you, but it might have been.**

An inelegant snort escaped him at that. Yeah, sure, Cas had kissed him first, if his memories weren’t deceiving him, but it’s not like he’d pinned him to the wall.

Dean pursed his lips at that most wonderful idea and shook his head.

_ Focus, Winchester. _

<< Then don’t. Cause you didn’t. We’re in our forties, Cas, and both able to defend our non-existent decency. You didn’t overpower me.

Clearly any sense of humour was lost on Cas under duress, if his answer was anything to go by.

**> > Still, I imagine that’s not why you came over.**

With a low groan, Dean arched an eyebrow at his phone. “Shows what you know,” he muttered in a moment of clarity.

Sighing, he closed his eyes, rubbing them with one hand. Cas was obviously having second thoughts, which probably shouldn’t surprise him. Dean had more or less bailed on him Saturday eve, without so much as a word or an effort. And there was that nagging thought that he wasn’t Castiel’s type or equipped to be all Cas needed to be. What Cas deserved to have. Someone who’d gone through so much already didn’t need another burden.

Dean sighed.

<< It’s fine. Don’t worry about it. Good night, Cas.

The answer took a few more heartbeats to come in and Dean wasn’t sure why he felt disappointed.

**> > Good night, Dean.**

There was no more communication after that, which settled it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short, sweet, our-boys-are-being-painfully-stupid little thing for this chapter.
> 
> Next one is tomorrow!
> 
> Thanks for being patient with me/them.
> 
> Love,  
> Mal


	24. February 11th, 2020

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “There aren’t any obstacles left, besides the ones you put in place.”
> 
> “A bit blunt, even for your doing, Gabe. And if it were that simple...”
> 
> “I'll grant you that, but the pining is driving me nuts.”

**Tuesday, February 11** **th** **2020**

His phone rang and Dean looked up from the dough, confused when he saw who was calling. He and Gabe got along splendidly, but they didn’t call on the regular. Wiping the flour on his hands on the towel, he picked up.

“Gabe, everything alright?”

“No worries, Dean-o. Am I disturbing you?”

He heard the deep bark of Colt in the background.

“In the process of kneading bread. How’s Colt?”

“An utterly spoiled brat, which is a good indicator for his general wellbeing.”

“Uh-uh. Just don’t feed him chocolate, alright?”

“What do you take me for?”

“Bit of an open door, Gabe. What’s up?”

“Talk about open doors. I’m just having some trouble reaching Sam. You know anything I don’t?”

Dean let out a soft sigh, rolling his eyes fondly at Gabe’s worry. For all his bluster, he wouldn’t want anyone but Gabe being partly responsible for his baby brother’s happiness.

“He must have forgotten his charger, so unless he got someone else’s at work, my guess is his phone’s dead.”

Gabriel scoffed. “He probably doesn’t even realise it.”

“Hyper-focus,” they said in unison.

“If it’s urgent, you can call the main desk?”

“Nah, it’s not that urgent, I’d have just liked a reply.”

Dean mused in silence for a few seconds and his penny dropped. “Goddamnit, Gabe, don’t send him that shit at work!”

Gabriel laughed. “Such assumptions! Shows where your mind goes.”

“Yeah, sure,  _ my  _ mind,” Dean grunted. He pushed his fingers of his free hand into the bread dough. “Anything else I can help you with, brother-dear?”

“Yes, actually,” Gabriel said. “Well… Help me. Just something I wanted to say, cause I’ve been thinking about your arguments for not talking to Cas.”

Dean hadn’t told anyone what happened last time, not even Sam. He had told him Anna was in fact Cas’ sister, but other than that, he’d kept mum. For obvious reasons, but mainly because he needed to wrap his head around it first. And he couldn’t, try as he might. He hadn’t heard from Cas since they exchanged the awkward texts, in an attempt to erase what had happened.

“Do tell.”

“It’s just… You said you don’t want to risk losing him, because of the positive impact he’s had. Right?”

“Yes,” Dean confirmed.

That hadn’t changed, if he got a say in the matter. If that bridge hadn’t been burned down by searing hot kisses. He punched the dough with a fist.

“Which makes sense. I follow the reasoning to an extent, but… here’s the thing. Fear is the worst motivator.”

“I’ve heard that before,” Dean said. “What’s your point?”

Gabriel sighed. “You recall Sam and I danced around each other for a while.”

“Gods, yes. You drove me up the wall.”

“We aim to please. Sometimes there are good reasons,  _ excellent  _ reasons not to do something… Like, don’t have a kid if you know you don’t have the means to support them. Unpopular opinion, but…”

“Fair nonetheless. I ain’t planning on having kids though.”

“No, you’re just… avoiding being truthful with Cas, because you’re scared. What’s the worst that can happen?”

“I lose him.”

The admission was unexpected, soft spoken, but crystal clear and he heard Gabe’s inhale on the other end. True to form, he recovered fast.

“Ah… Dean-o. Take it from someone who’s flirted up a storm with a truckload of people in his life so far. Cas isn’t going anywhere… Charlie was right. He isn’t just being nice.”

“How can you be sure?”

“Sam said Anna’s his sister?”

“She is.”

“There aren’t any obstacles left, besides the ones you put in place.”

“A bit blunt, even for your doing, Gabe. And if it were that simple...”

“I'll grant you that, but the pining is driving me nuts.”

“I’ll ask again. How can you be sure?”

“You said his last name was Novak.”

“Yep… Why?” 

He was getting annoyed. Mainly because Gabe was sounding a lot like Missouri. Which was scary on so many levels, it wasn’t even close to funny.

“It took me a while to remember, but… does he have a shitload of siblings? Four of five of them?”

This ignited a spark of interest in Dean, as to why they were having this damned conversation in the first place. “Five actually. How do you know?”

“I met them when I was younger.”

Dean’s eyebrows tried to escape into his hairline. “No kidding. How?”

“Dad’s a lawyer, remember? Their family… my dad used to work for them. He was their family lawyer for a long time. They ran into some rough times after their dad died and my dad represented them.”

“We talked about that a few times. That still doesn’t explain why you’re so sure Cas isn’t going anywhere.”

“I remember them. Those kids. Cas and I were close to the same age. For a while, they weren’t allowed in their parental house. Some of them stayed at our place for a while, when things got messy. Cas was one of them, with the younger ones and a toddler.”

“And?”

“My dad wasn’t a soft-hearted man, Dean, but he took these kids in. Whether it was out of loyalty to their parents or because he genuinely cared, I don’t know, but I got to hang out with Cas for the few weeks they lived with us. Bit of a loose cannon back then…”

“Really?” Dean chuckled a surprised laugh. 

The idea of a loose cannon Cas spoke to his imagination. It contrasted so oddly with the collected man he’d gotten to know. Though if the passion he’d experienced so briefly was anything to go by… 

Gabriel’s voice drew him back to the conversation at hand.

“They had a lot going on, half of which I barely understood. All of them seemed a bit unhinged, but…”

He heard the hesitation in Gabriel’s tone. By now, his heart was going a mile a minute, though he wasn’t sure why. “But? But what?”

“He was there for his siblings, well beyond his years, and he found time for my crazy still-in-the-closet-ass. He may have been a loose cannon, but there isn’t a deceitful cell in that guy’s body nor a very… shallow one. Not from what I remember and not from what you’ve told us.”

“Just because he isn’t deceitful or shallow doesn’t mean I need to worm my way into his life. Or his pants.”

Gabriel laughed heartily.

“From what you told me, you already did the former and I sincerely hope you’ll manage the latter.”

Dean held his silence for a while, mulling over the information. It was a guess, a risk still, even if Gabe had known Cas when he was younger. But maybe he was sick of being scared.

“Plus, you deserve a break, Dean-o.”

A warm feeling bubbled up in his chest at the sentiment, coming from Gabe of all people. His cheeks burning at the memories, Dean cleared his throat. “I… I may have caught a small one. Last… Last time…”

The loud whoop on the other end rang in his ear and he winced, holding the phone away for a split second.

“Cool your jets, Gabe, it was just a kiss.” Not entirely true.

“Get your ass moving! Before Sam and I book a session at Feathers and enlighten him about how smitten you are.”

“I am not. And don’t you fucking dare! We’re doing this at our own pace, thank you very much!”

“Sloths get it on faster than you two! But you’re doing it, right?”

Dean rolled his eyes at the smiling tone in Gabe’s voice.

*****

Dean glared at his phone. After Gabe’s call, he’d first finished kneading the bread. It gave him time to process and think, only to discover thinking wasn’t helping him much. His apartment was starting to smell of fresh bread.

He’d typed out and erased ten different messages. Either they were too long, too awkward or too… too much. He wanted to pour his heart out. In the end, he settled on something short and to the point. Because he wasn’t going to have this conversation by text, for fuck’s sake, so he first had to make his way back into Cas’ orbit.

A regular yoga session, which reduced the odds of less clothing. Sensible, right?

Right.

<< Heya, Cas, you got room for a regular yoga session?

The reply came near instant and had him scrambling for his phone as soon as he put it aside.

**> > Hello, Dean. I had not expected this text.**

Dean grimaced at the formal tone.

<< I don’t see why not. I enjoy it, you’re good at what you do.

**> > Thank you. That’s more credit than I deserve.**

Was this guy really having a deontological crisis over kissing Dean? He glared daggers at the text, wanting to drag Cas through it into his lap.

“Alright, alright, just reassure him,” Dean muttered to himself, his chest aching at the thought that Cas was in knots over this.

<< Don’t fret, Cas. Only I don’t feel like being in a group setting.

**> > Let me see if I can find a comfortable moment.**

Dean’s gut swirled uneasily at that. Was he reading it wrong? How was he supposed to read it? Okay, maybe texting wasn’t such a brilliant idea after all. He wasn’t sure who was to blame for what went down, but he didn’t want Cas uncomfortable, for God’s sake.

<< I’ll keep my hands to myself, promise.

**> > That’s not what I meant. I was checking my schedule.**

Of course. Dean chewed the inside of his cheek. Smooth.

**> > I have Friday evening at my place, if you want. At 17.30.**

<< Okay. Good. Thanks, Cas. See you Friday.

**> > See you Friday, Dean.**

When he walked to his monthly schedule on the fridge to jot it down, he noticed the date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh, Gabe. I've noticed he is often a messenger of sorts in my fics. A chaotic one, but still.
> 
> Next installment will be on Friday, Valentine's. *rubs her hands together* Time to ~~put out~~ talk, boys.
> 
> WARNING WARNING: the chapters after this one will all be quite a bit longer. The build-up merits it, I should think. 
> 
> So get yourself a snack and a drink before you venture in.
> 
> Love,  
> Mal


	25. February 14th, 2020

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It took all of one minute into the game for Dean to realise his mistake. 
> 
> Between the two of them, Dean was now 100% convinced their IQ actually dropped when they came within 5 feet of each other.

**Friday, February 14** **th** **2020**

Dean was a bit surprised at how easily he’d managed to weasel his way back into Cas’ house. On Valentine’s Day. On the ride over, he discovered he wouldn’t want it any other way, even if quicksand seemed to be their current foundation and he had no idea how the evening would evolve.

He parked Baby and got out, smiling at the mere sight of the house, no curtains drawn, and Cas walking towards the front door to meet him. His heart skipped a few beats when he realised The Mini wasn’t there, which meant Anna was out of the house. He got out his duffel and walked up the gravel path, as Cas opened the door. His smile could light up a damn solar system, Dean thought, stunned speechless.

He really meant to talk to Cas, but as soon as they saw each other something seemed to shift. They danced around each other, Dean trying to get inside and somehow finding Cas in his personal space with every step. Stilted gestures, silences that lasted a touch too long, and eye contact that bounced everywhere, eventually always landing back on each other like gravity. They stuttered their way through ‘ _hello’s_ ’ and quietly slurping tea together and ‘ _let’s get started_ ’.

Dean changed into his slacks and a linen long sleeve, while Cas set them up in the living room, trying to talk himself into… talking. What was the point of therapy and getting past 40, he wondered, if he still turned into a blithering idjit in the face of… of… _Cas_. Just Cas.

For the life of him, Dean couldn’t focus during any of the exercises, which was exasperating both of them. His mind was either telling him off for not speaking up or providing entirely unhelpful alternatives he could be doing with Cas other than yoga. Their out-of-sync workout lasted until Cas huffed and looked at him, squinting in annoyance. Dean knew he ought to feel guilty, but the adorable levels on Cas were through the roof and deeply distracting.

He threw his hands up in defeat and tried a different course. “Can’t we just play a game or something?”

“You asked for a yoga session, Dean.”

The undercurrent of ‘ _I’d rather not waste your money or time again_ ’ was painfully obvious. He’d not brought cash this time around. Cas looked peeved with a side order of pleading, though what he was pleading for, Dean couldn’t tell.

“Yeah, but it isn’t working. I can’t…”

“Focus. You can’t focus, I can tell.”

Cas opened and closed his mouth a few times, perhaps wanting to ask what was going on, but decided against it. Nerves singing, Dean pointed at the games stacked on the bottom shelves of one of the book closets.

“Twister? That’s got a yoga twist to it, right? Pun totally intended.”

He shot Cas what he hoped was a winning smile. Cas glowered at him. His fingers were rubbing together, as if he was nervous and he ran a hand through his hair, setting it on unruly end. He looked like he was going to argue, but his shoulders sagged and he waved a hand. “Fine. Fair point.”

Dean beamed brightly, which seemed to soften Cas somewhat, and helped roll up the yoga mats, setting them aside. The twister mat was laid out in seconds, Dean squatting at the blue dot side, the spinner board within reach. He looked up at Cas, who was watching him, wide-eyed.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” Cas nodded. “I’m fine.”

It took all of one minute into the game for Dean to realise his mistake. 

Between the two of them, Dean was now 100% convinced their IQ actually dropped when they came within 5 feet of each other.

Keep his hands to himself… Maintain the boundary... Not get himself in another physical knot _before_ talking to Cas.

No wonder Cas had looked at him so helplessly.

So why had he conceded?

Shit.

Dean tried hard not to make it awkward. It helped that Cas was ridiculously flexible and a lot better at this game than Dean could ever dream to be. But it resulted in too many literal close calls.

“No, you can’t… Hey, that tickles!”

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Cas grumbled sarcastically. “Someone has to win this.”

“Competitive streak, much?”

Another grunt from an angle Dean couldn’t see, as Cas all too easily hit his mark. “Most of us Novaks suffer from it.”

Despite his brain accusing Dean of behaving like a jackass, Cas seemed to be enjoying himself. Perhaps mainly because Dean was struggling and it visibly amused him. Some of the stress went out of them, as they manoeuvred their way around each other and the mat. A lot of giggles and grunts and cursing followed, which were way too heart-warming not to enjoy.

Because there was only so much overthinking his system could take.

And there was only so much he could resist.

Dean could _feel_ his blood rushing south, when Cas draped himself over his back at an awkward angle. A hand butterflied at his wrist, as long fingers reached for the dot next to where his hand was. A hip bone pushed into his ass cheek in the process. His grip on his position had been tenuous at best, but with Cas’ enveloping him, something gave out.

His balance went off-kilter, his foot sliding sideways into one of Cas’ legs, which sent the whole set-up tumbling.

And there wasn’t a chance in Heaven, Hell or Purgatory that Castiel wouldn’t notice his hard-on. Dean submitted to the fact that Cas would end their… arrangement on the spot, as soon as he found out just where Dean’s mind had been all this time, while Cas had been so obviously uncomfortable. His cheeks burned and he was pretty sure he was in a full body blush that radiated through his clothing.

Dean was panicking so much, it took him a lot longer than it would in any other circumstance to feel the hardness pressing into his own thigh, which sent his heart into overdrive. The blood he’d been trying to will away from his groin was in the right place after all!

 _Words, Winchester!_ The reminder almost sounded like Missouri.

His breath stuttered and he snapped his eyes to Castiel’s face. Those gorgeous ocean blues were wide, a mixture of disbelief and dawning understanding at war, until they narrowed, sending Dean’s mind into an interested quiet at what was to come next. A slow, burning desire overwrote his shame with every passing second and his lips curled into a smile.

A bratty smile, by the looks of Cas’ scowl.

“Heya, Cas,” Dean said, batting his eyelashes.

Castiel tilted his head, intense focus oozing off his every gesture. His muscles were tensed, holding him up, hovering over Dean. His voice was hoarse when he spoke.

“You look awfully cocky for someone whose body temperature just tried to vie for first place with the sun’s core.”

“I would not be half this at ease if it wasn’t for your… uhm.”

Dean wiggled his leg, until it slid between Cas’ and bent his knee, putting pressure on Cas’ cock, earning a blissful hiss for his efforts. He watched, his jaw falling slack, as Cas tilted forward, his forehead almost touching Dean’s.

 _Oh, what a sight_ , he mused.

“Yeah, that,” Dean said, his voice heavy.

“Holy shit, you really are a brat,” Cas growled.

The sound of that hit home, deeply, firing neurons that had but one goal in mind. Before Dean knew what hit him, Cas rolled his hips, leaned in enough for their lips to be an inch apart. It sent Dean laughing through a deep hitched breath, his voice giving out near the end. His head swam with wild ideas. His hands came up on instinct, grabbing Cas by the waist, fingers teasing the hem of his shirt as they dipped in, searching for warm skin.

When he spoke, his exhale went straight to Cas’ lips. “I guess I don’t need to feel bad for...”

“For what?” Cas asked.

“For bringing something decidedly unprofessional into a... business transaction?”

When Cas made a face at him, Dean winced at his poor choice of words.

“You were still under the impression this was purely business?” Cas asked, forehead wrinkling in disbelief.

Dean chewed his lip, resisting the urge to give into the physical temptation that lay just within reach. “I dunno, man, usually people ask people out on dates. And I seem to recall you mentioned something about explicit words.”

“True,” Cas nodded. “I may be partly to blame for it.”

“Huh?”

“When I feel out of my depth, I tend to rely on… structures to make it easier. In this case, I might have clung too much to our dynamic of instructor-client.”

“So that’s why you sounded all business-like when things got decidedly unprofessional?”

“I couldn’t get a read on you. Socially speaking, I’ve been known to mistake people’s intentions. So I apologise.”

“Apologise?” Dean echoed. “Again? Why?”

“I… I shouldn’t have done this, not while you were indeed still paying for my services. But…”

It was Dean’s turn to make a face as if someone had just fed him kale. “Paying for your services, fucking hell, Cas, you make it sound like… well, something it wasn’t.”

“All the same, Dean, I probably should have just asked you out, but there was… There _is_ something about you that makes me feel like a bumbling idiot.”

The look Cas bestowed on him conveyed an uncharacteristic timidity and settled some of Dean’s nerves. Confused, Dean smiled softly, reaching a hand out to card his fingers through Cas’ hair reassuringly. The way Cas pressed his cheek into the inside of his wrist, his dark eyelashes lowered, melted something inside him.

“If that was you bumbling, please spare me your suave charm. I’ll just die on the spot,” he whispered.

Cas’ nose scrunched up, as he shook his head. “I was worried you’d say no. And you’d leave.”

His heart trying to hammer its way out of his chest, Dean shot him an impish smile. “Does it look like I wanna leave?”

Cas’ voice dropped lower, reverberating against Dean’s skin where their bodies touched, which was about everywhere… It had Dean squirming in anticipation and impatience.

“I’m mainly seeing your freckles and the way your cheeks heat up and your eyes so very vulnerable…”

Dean’s eyes widened at the unabashed observation. “Holy fuck… You can’t just say these things in that tone to my face.”

“What would you have me say instead? Or which part of you would you rather have me address?”

Dean gaped at an utter loss for words. He might be a brat, but Cas was fucking bossy. And a tease.

“Ooff… Cas,” Dean sighed. “Anything and nothing, everywhere.”

He blushed at the captivated smile lighting up Cas’ face, like dawn breaking through gorgeous pastel clouds.

“A lotta things, come to think of it,” he added, ”But right now I don’t think I want you saying much…”

He finally allowed himself to move, rolling his hips and swept his hands up Cas’ sides. Cas’ features rearranged themselves into something both soft and voracious, which refocused Dean’s attention fully. On him. His heart beating louder, Dean licked his lips. This felt surreal, his insides swirling in disbelief at his luck.

As Cas’ arms boxed him in, his fingers carded through Dean’s hair. One hand sliding to the back of his neck, he put pressure on the sensitive ridge of his skull. A wave of tingles sparked across his skull and his eyes slid shut for but a second, colours dancing against his eyelids.

Holding Cas’ eyes, Dean’s hands squeezed down on his flanks. Licking his lips to ensure he had Cas’ attention, Dean tilted his head up to capture Cas’ lips. Closed-lipped, soft, searching almost. As if trying to remember the first time. Cas exhaled through his nose, long and slow and let out such a pleased hum, Dean held onto him tighter. A gentle lick at his bottom lip was all it took for Dean to open up. He sucked on Cas’ tongue, relishing when Cas ravaged his mouth. The intensity of it… all bets were off. Dean figured he could get used to making out like this again. Get his lips kissed swollen. Get marked.

“I can think of something to say,” Cas muttered against his lips, giving the lower one a slow lick.

“Mmh?” Dean nipped at him, trying to coax him into another deep kiss.

“Happy Valentine’s, Dean.” Cas smiled at him, his face all soft warmth.

Dean blinked at him in surprise. His reply came as a soft-spoken stutter. “Ha... Happy Valentine’s, Cas.”

For once, seemingly unaware of Dean’s sudden shift in emotion, Cas cleared his throat. “Let’s take this to a softer surface than the floor. My poor, old hip…”

The inflection suggested he was joking, but Dean’s eyes widened.

“Shit, yeah, of course,” he said instinctively.

Scrambling upright, he held his tongue after that. No one of import had wished him a Happy Valentine’s in several years. He’d registered the date, because how could you not with the explosion of glitter and hearts all over every store, along with the promise of true love? Provided you threw enough money at it.

But the way Cas had said it with that look in his eyes, Dean was almost willing to believe. He mentally rolled his eyes. Gabe would have a field day with this, if he ever found out. The touch of Cas’ fingers on his shoulder brought him back to the present. He folded his own over his and squeezed down a touch harder, as if to check he was really there.

And then Cas was kissing him again, pulling him towards the stairs. Dean’s system rebooted happily as they stumbled their way upstairs. Having no idea where to go he let Cas take the lead.

Shows what he knew about smart decisions. But then that had been a given lately. 

They took the stairs in phases, too occupied with kissing each other stupid and touching every inch of skin they could. The word _manhandling_ popped back into his mind, when Cas turned him around when they got to the landing. Dean figured it was to point him in the right direction. But then one hand splayed on Dean’s stomach, another grabbed his shoulder and Cas pushed.

Dean whimpered, when Cas pressed him into one of the floor to ceiling windows, cheek and chest first. He went with it, planting his hands just above his head, fingers touching. So far for softer surfaces. They couldn’t even make it upstairs without getting insanely side-tracked.

Cas was hot and hard behind him, dick pressing between his ass. Which was in such stark contrast to mere minutes ago, Dean’s head was swimming. Cas reached under his arm across his chest, folding a hand over his throat to turn his head and licked at the corner of his mouth. Panting, Dean angled his head better, pleading for more and dug his fingers into Cas’ hair to draw him in for wet, sloppy kisses. His brain barely registered their surroundings, but he was not so far gone as to not realise the lights were on in a house made almost entirely of glass.

“Cas, the window…”

The cold of it seeped through the front of his shirt, his nipples perking up at the onslaught of hot body and frosty glass.

“I don’t care.” 

It came as a gruff reply, while warm expert hands slid under his shirt, deft fingers teasing the waistline of his slacks. Dean felt his eyes roll back, a moaned ‘ _yesss_ ’ on his lips. He had missed this, forgotten almost how good it could feel. Cas stilled momentarily and, hey, no, don’t do that.

“Do you?”

Blasted words.

Blinking at the stars outside, Dean tried to give the question thought, breath puffing out and fogging up the window. His brain wasn’t firing on all cylinders, but he managed. The odds of anyone seeing them from the street were minimal, unless someone had a telescope aimed at the house. In which case, Dean suddenly thought he couldn’t care less if someone saw him being manhandled into a window.

“Nope,” he said, enunciating the p, “I don’t think I give a rat’s ass.”

“Good.” Cas sounded entirely too pleased with that little admission as he dipped into the back of his neck.

Cas’ left hand reappeared from under the shirt, sliding up his scarred arm towards his hand. Hopeful, Dean twisted his wrist into Cas’ grip. On instinct or perhaps because he caught on, Cas closed his fingers around Dean’s wrist, effectively pinning his arm to the window. Dean’s heart picked up an interesting pace. Cas panted harder into his neck, rutting against Dean. The glorious feeling of which fell away. The kissing in the back of his neck stilled once more and Dean’s needy sounds filled the silence.

He cast a tentative look over his shoulder and was immediately hooked on an intense pair of ravenous, blue eyes. The pressure on his wrist increased slightly, when he tried to move his arm and, blissfully, found he couldn’t.

“Gods, yes,” he muttered, canting his hips into Cas.

“You like this?” Cas asked at his ear, voice rough.

Dean squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his ass into Cas’ dick harder, wanting, no, _needing_ Cas to get a move on already. When there was no continued devouring of his neck nor a reciprocating roll of Cas’ hips, Dean let out a frustrated sound and snarled.

“Do we really need words for everything? I mean, I think it’s pretty obvious I’m into this.”

“We’ve had a few misunderstandings due to a lack of words, Dean,” Cas said, his voice heavy with mirth and something else that upped his heart rate. Any more of this and it might give out.

Frustrated, Dean pressed his forehead into the window.

“Besides,” Cas said, licking a hot trail up the shell of his ear.

Whimpering, Dean bucked into him, his free hand squeezing down on Cas’ ass and he smiled when he felt him press into him harder.

“Besides, what, Cas?”

“I like to hear you ask for what you want.”

“Holy fucking shit… And you call me a brat.”

“You are, with that beautiful mouth on you. Tell me… what you want.”

The authoritative tone mingled with genuine curiosity lit up parts of his brain he hadn’t accessed in a while. Desire trickled across his skin like honey, as he considered telling the truth.

“Everything you’ve got,” Dean exhaled roughly.

“ _Specifics_.”

“I want to see you… Know you... As much as I can. On every level.”

His cheeks heated up at the admission. Cas hummed softly and let go of Dean’s wrist, giving him enough space to turn around. Dean moved gingerly in his embrace, breath catching when he and Cas found each other’s eyes. His back pressed into the cool glass, now damp from the heat radiating off both of them. Cas crowded him, eyes aglow. Dean pushed his wrist back into Cas’ hand, impishly looking up, where his fingers gripped him tight once more.

“What else?” Cas whispered on a crooked smile that made Dean weak at the knees.

“I want your tongue while I’m unable to get away.” Dean flustered, his voice breaking.

He was no stranger to dirty talk, but usually in the heat of the moment. Not with a scrutinizing pair of attentive eyes taking in every emotion rippling across his face, as if he wanted to take Dean apart bit by bit based on what he revealed. He felt like a raw nerve under Cas’ ever-present calm.

He loved it.

With instant clarity, Dean knew what he wanted. He smirked, tilting his chin up, nipping at Cas’ mouth. Cas grinned and backed off just out of reach. Dean moaned as he spoke. “I want to see you fall apart because of me.”

A flicker in those blue eyes, meandering between soft vulnerability and overwhelming desire, told Dean his request might very well be within the realm of possibilities. His mouth went dry at the thought. Oh, he wanted to see Cas fall apart… if he didn’t first.

A minute raise in those eyebrows asked for more. Dean’s mind racing the better part of every day, the next answer came easily.

“I want to surrender,” Dean said, voice clearer. “Forget my own name, but remember yours.”

Judging by the way Cas’ expression rippled from desire to promising determination, that hit a nerve. The mere thought they could be this compatible had Dean’s blood singing through his veins, every bit of him wanting to explore the possibilities. When Cas made to lean in, to give in, Dean inched aside with a shaky laugh, shooting him a warm look.

“One more thing.”

“Anything,” Cas exhaled at the corner of his mouth, teeth bared, breath hot. The answer took Dean by surprise, but he rolled with it.

“I want to know what you want at this moment. Right now. Cause it ain’t just about me, honey.”

An amused hum and the flash of a crooked smile was all he got before Cas traced his jawline with his nose. What Dean thought was the start of a blazing parade of kisses stopped. Instead Cas reappeared in front of him, holding Dean hostage in his gaze as he spoke. Slow and deliberate, with nowhere to hide for Dean in the face of honesty.

“I want to taste you. Explore every inch of you with my tongue.” 

Cas nipped at his lips. Dean’s heart pounded in his ears at hearing the intent in his voice, the dark promise that Cas was absolutely sure he could do exactly what he was saying. It sounded like the first item on a long list.

“I want to eat you out and hold you on the edge, until I feel you fall apart beneath me. Shaking at my touch and mine only.”

“Possessive streak?” Dean asked on a shaky exhale, as his eyes fell to said lips and tongue that could be, _would_ be eating him out.

Cas tilted his head at him and gave a brief shake. “Not per se. Just to know it’s my doing suffices.”

Dean was ridiculously on board with either notion. “Territorial, then.”

An agreeable hum was his answer, as if the semantics of it didn’t really matter, and he found himself drawn back in by the gas-like flames in those eyes.

“I want to watch you surrender, knowing I’ve got you, knowing you’re safe. I want to feel that surrender in the way you let go and see the tension drain out of you. Watch your expression change to one of a man who forgets the weight he has on his shoulders.”

Nothing dirty there, yet exponentially more vulnerable and it was as if Cas spoke to his very soul. Dean shivered, his breath hitching, and suddenly he had to blink back tears. There was nowhere to _hide_. Cas pecked a kiss to his cheekbone, allowing Dean the space to close his eyes momentarily. He huffed gently nonetheless.

“Too much?” Cas asked.

“A touch intense,” he replied truthfully, as he looked at Cas.

Cas smiled, his eyebrows conveying too much kindness, his eyes sprinkled with a sentiment that came close to what Dean was feeling. There was only so much of this he could take in one sitting and he and Cas had pushed the boundaries. Just like that, the time for words slipped away and likely out of his grasp.

Dean nipped at Cas’ lips gently, sliding a leg around his to urge him in. “C’mere, Cas. Taste me.”

Cas sighed as if he’d been giving relief from agony and draped himself across Dean, kissing him, warmly, deeply and Dean latched on for dear life. He couldn’t quite remember the last time he’d experienced kissing with such two-way fervour, as his senses clouded his rapidly crumbling cognitive skills.

Dean’s free hand snuck under Cas’ tank, in search of every sensitive spot he could find. He zoned in on Cas’ nipple, teasing the bud between his fingers, eliciting the best possible sounds from him.

Cas sucked at Dean’s throat, the pressure heavy enough for Dean to feel his own heartbeat on Cas’ lips. His stubble grazed his skin and he sucked down harder when he felt Dean’s response, moaning, arching into the touch. Dean relished the thought of bruises for days, marks that he’d get to see in the mirror and remember this by.

“Harder, Casss…”

Sounds got incoherent as Cas obliged and sucked, nipped and bit a heated trail across Dean’s neck and collarbone, marking him like newfound territory. His arm was released. Soon his shirt was pulled over his head and Cas dropped the gentlest kiss to his scarred shoulder. Making good on exploring every inch of his skin, Cas meandered his way across his chest, eventually falling to his knees at Dean’s feet.

Dean let his head fall back, smacking into the glass. He wasn’t falling apart, not yet at least. The window at his back was too impractical to allow it. But Dean realised in this moment that as the night progressed Cas would have the power to do so.

And he _wanted_. So deeply he couldn’t fully fathom what it was beyond Cas.

And he wanted Cas in a bed. He was too old for floor and/or window sex. Maybe.

He briefly considered it, trying to imagine what it would do to his back or knees. Or Cas’ hip. Then Cas was mouthing at his dick, breath hot through the fabric of his slacks.

“Hey, umm, Cas,” he panted, tugging at his hair to distract himself, but then Cas did even better. “Ahhh…”

In one smooth move, Cas lowered his pants enough to spring his dick free, and yeah, sure, Dean had gone commando. He usually did.

Dean stuttered for a second, staring down at Castiel. If his blood wasn’t collecting in his dick, he might have blushed. All he found was a mesmerised Cas, his eyes liquid pools of appreciation and want, as he looked up at Dean for the briefest second. One eyebrow quirked up in a question, but when Dean’s mind blanked on what exactly he’d wanted to ask, Cas smirked.

The next second, Cas pressed his hips firmly into the glass, licking a trail up the hard length of his dick and sucked the tip between his lips. What little focus Dean had was shattered, as he tried to buck into the heat of Cas’ mouth, but found himself pinned. Cas’ tongue was as deft as his fingers, he blearily thought, and then Cas took him deeper, the moan at the back of his throat vibrating through Dean’s dick.

Dean scrambled to get a hold on the window, but sweaty palms and all. “God, oh, god, Cas…”

They lost track of time for a while. He alternated between blissed out staring at the skies and watching Cas’ dark messy head move along his length. The way his tongue swirled around the tip, before Cas took him deep while looking up at Dean. Deeper than he expected, it had him borderline delirious. Until his knees wanted to give out and he couldn’t surrender to it.

No. No, no. _Bed_. Clenching his teeth hard enough it almost hurt, Dean forced himself to string a sentence together rather than try to fuck Cas’ hot mouth.

“Am I supposed to hold myself up against this window while you have your way with me or do you have a bed in this glass palace so we can level the playing field?”

There. Several syllables. Lots of words. Even some sass. He was doing good.

“Several,” Cas mumbled against his cock. “We can try them all, if you like.”

“Fucking hell, Cas, I will not do the two-backed beast in your sister’s bed.” 

Dean gazed down, finding impish blue eyes twinkling up at him. Cas’ tongue flicked out, teasing his slit, then he laughed.

“Two-backed beast? Really?”

Dean’s breath came ragged.

“Really,” he huffed, pulling Cas on his feet firmly, his hand splayed on his chest. “Now. Lead me to your bed, Cas. I want you on your back for a while.”

A deep hum and yep, Dean was sure he was conditioned by now to feel happier at the mere sound. In an unexpected intimate gesture, Cas tucked his cock back into his slacks, as he gently nudged his nose to Dean’s. His hands trailed around his waist, as Dean moved them backwards.

Eventually Castiel let go, hooking his fingers into Dean’s and led him down the hallway to a room at the back of the house. As they went, he extinguished lights and pressed buttons, putting curtains in motion, slowly but steadily shielding the whole house and them from the outside world.

It allowed Dean the time to gather the scattered bits and pieces of himself along the way. He palmed at his dick, going to half-mast, freeing up some blood towards his brain. Time to observe Cas walking through the hall, dressed only in his loose yoga pants and a racer back, his wings on display. Time to contemplate the moment and how something delightfully smooth like fresh honey swirled in his chest, warming him up. He got caught, finding Cas’ eyes inexplicably on him. He caught Cas several times in return, smiling every time. Probably ridiculous, if it wasn’t so stinkin’ _cute_. Or the other way around.

At the end of the hall, they came to a halt and Dean peeked inside, curious to see what kind of room Cas had. 

The room was simply furnished. Its colours earthly tones of honey and chocolate. The centre piece was a massive floor bed, encased in wood, a duvet and sheet spilling over the sides generously. He counted at least five pillows. Potentially more.

Cas pressed and turned a switch near the door. Two warm yellow lamps flickered to soft life, one in the far corner on the nightstand next to the bed, another to their left on top of the dresser. A dark ebony-coloured statue on it registered as a female goddess of some kind, a large feline at her knee. Aside from a few stray pieces of clothing on a chair and an overflowing hamper, Cas kept his bedroom as neat as the rest of the house.

On the wall above the bed, he saw a painting that had Cas’ name all over it. Although there was nothing tangibly recognisable, he instantly got…

“Bees,” Dean said, eyes narrowing at the colours and shapes.

“Hmm?” Cas mumbled, as he stood close to Dean, their shoulders touching.

“The painting… They’re bees, right? And filaments, I think?”

Cas eyed him curiously. “And pollen, yes.”

“Bees and pollen… In a bedroom.” Dean chuckled. “That’s real subtle, Cas.”

Dean side-eyed him, catching the faint blush dusting his cheeks in the soft light.

“I didn’t mean it that way… I just happen to be fond of bees.”

How Cas could go from full-on in control over Dean pressed into the window to this awkwardly cute and flustered in the span of a few minutes, Dean couldn’t understand. He was very much into it though, which must have shown on his face. Cas recovered, smiling as he looked to the bed. Dean’s turn to feel his cheeks heat up. He cleared his throat, turning towards Cas, chest to chest.

“Remind me,” Cas said. “What do you want?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is longer. Get a drink and a snack.
> 
> There is a second one incoming after a last re-read/edit.
> 
> The next installment (also double feature) is tomorrow! 
> 
> If you've been keeping track of these boys, thank you so much for being here. We are nearing the end. Not sure how I feel about that. But I'd love to hear how you're feeling after this.
> 
> Love,  
> Mal


	26. February 14th, 2020 part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Cas, I can’t… I want…”
> 
> “I can tell, sweetheart. Do you want to be held down?”

**Friday, February 14** **th** **2020**

No one was ever going to be able to say that when presented with the opportunity, Dean wouldn’t take his share and then some. It felt so natural with Cas, in ways he could only dream of. Maybe that’s what this all was. A dream.

“I want you on your back,” Dean said. “And your tongue after…”

Cas walked backwards towards the bed, tugging the hem of his tank up and pulling it over his head. The muscles in his abdomen rippled gloriously. And then his hair stood on even worse end. Dean exhaled slowly at the sight. His eyes beckoned Dean closer and into action. Dean’s feet moved without explicit permission, trailing in Cas’ inverted footsteps. He tracked his gestures, his eyes lingering on the v-line vanishing into his slacks. And suddenly his mouth was dry and his fingers itched to get a hold of Cas.

It was headier, when they kissed and fell into the mattress. Cas broke the kiss, but not their gaze and smiled in that interestingly knowing kind of way, as he leaned back, unfolding underneath Dean. He rested his hands behind his head and stilled, expression fond and open. 

“Have at me, Dean.”

Excuse him while he did exactly that, Dean thought, as he bent over Cas’ stomach to lave kisses to every inch of willingly presented skin at his fingertips. He circled his tongue around Cas’ navel, hands raking up his flanks, rolling his nipples between his fingers until they pebbled, and smiled as he felt Cas arch into his touch. His focus narrowed to drawing sounds out of Cas by his hands and tongue alone. Along the way he got Cas shimmied out of his slacks, the sight leaving him breathlessly stunned for a moment before he returned to worshiping him. He soaked up every moan, every whisper, every needy uttering of his name, until Cas was trembling underneath him. His hips undulated instinctively into Dean, searching for friction. Dean cast a pleased smile up across the planes of Cas’ abdomen. 

Castiel pushed up lightly, frowning in that adorable way of his. “Don’t look so smug…”

Dean couldn’t stop himself from flashing Cas another, wider grin. Cas looked the wrecked side of affected, thighs shaking, sweat shining across his body. His voice was like gravel, the words teasing. Cas dug his fingers in his hair and stared at Dean like he was parched, and Dean was his own personal fata morgana. Which was ridiculous, cause Dean was pretty sure Cas was the one who saved him from the desert.

Dean was enraptured by the view, by the way Cas was affected by him. His expression shifted minutely under Dean’s mesmerized gaze, some of the haze seeping out.

“My turn,” Cas said, voice dipping lower.

With a chuckle, he slid out from under Dean. Dean yelped in surprise when Cas nudged his legs out from under him with embarrassing ease. A hand splayed wide on his upper back, as Cas leaned over, all hard and lean muscles draped over Dean. His breath butterflied hot between Dean’s shoulder blades, as Dean tried to process his rearranged position. Right. Stupidly strong and flexible yoga instructor. Cas' hands caressed over the globes of his ass, his pants coming off smoothly. Dean inhaled sharply, pushing himself up on his knees and elbows into Cas’ warmth. 

“Lie down on your stomach, Dean…”

He obeyed without so much as a second thought, or even a first one. A sigh of relief followed at being laid bare under Cas' gaze. Dean whimpered into the pillow, squirming in anticipation when Cas’ warm breath ghosted across his spine to his lower back. Felt his scruff scrape over his ass as Cas kissed and bit down into the soft flesh of his right cheek. Licked a teasing trail up to the dip in his lower back, then back down.

“Stop squirming,” he said, voice muffled.

“Cas, I can’t… I want…”

“I can tell, sweetheart. Do you want to be held down?”

Dean moaned louder, squeezing his eyes shut. “Gods, yes, fuck… Please, yes.”

Cas’ response was instant. He folded his arms up on the inside of Dean’s thighs, flattened his hands on his ass and pulled him down. His thighs met the mattress. Dean hissed when his erection got friction on the sheets in the process and bucked his hips. The next second Cas immobilised him, putting his considerable strength to work.

“Oh, Dean, baby,” he said, voice awed. “If you could see yourself.”

Gripping the sheets, Dean huffed into the pillow, feeling his cheeks burn with mild self-consciousness through the spikes of desperate want.

“Flattered… Really,” he panted. Dean pushed up on one elbow, minutely so, thanks to Cas’ death grip on him. Shot him a heated look over his shoulder, though he couldn’t get eyes on him. “Now either eat me out or fill me up, Cas.”

A soft snarl was his only warning before Cas was on him, pulling his cheeks wider. Dean fell back into the mattress with a long moan, as Cas plunged his tongue into him. There was no escape. All he could do was let Cas have his way with him. There was no restraint in the way Cas licked into him, teasing a most sensitive part of him relentlessly. Dean’s eyes rolled back in his sockets and he moaned in surrender, as his hands fisted into the sheets.

Cas gave his all, working him open, Dean whimpering nonsense. Through a haze of pleasure, he heard the sound of a lube bottle being uncapped. But he was too focused on trying to fuck himself harder on Cas’ tongue to give it much thought. He keened when Cas slid one hand between him and the sheets, pushing him up enough to close slick fingers around his dick. Just a teasing touch, which had Dean cursing into the pillow with an almost sob. He tried to chase the touch and felt Cas’ chuckle shudder through him.

“Fuck, Cas… so good, more, please, more,” he whined.

The pressure on his hips loosened up as Cas reared up to cover Dean with the palpable strength of his whole, divine body.

“Dean,” Cas murmured into his hair.

His dick slipped between Dean’s ass cheeks and for a blessed second, Dean wanted him to just pin him down and ride him, but another want surpassed it.

“Cas,” he moaned. “Cas, honey… I wanna see your face.”

He groaned louder when Cas released him partly and pulled him onto his knees by his hips. Then he was pulled upright, with more than a hint of desperation to the way Cas handled him, as he closed a hand over his throat. Teeth nipped into the soft flesh of his shoulder. Warm lips kissed a trail to his neck. Cas buried his nose into his hair. 

Dean reached back blindly, digging his fingers into Cas’ ass. He tilted his shoulder, slipping out of Cas’ hand and pushed him backwards. The look of surprise on his face was gold, blue eyes wide as he landed on the mattress. Dean smiled wickedly, but his heart beat louder at the sight of that fucking, _knowing_ eyebrow.

Cas smiled as the question came on a long exhale. “Ahhh, Dean… Do you want to ride me?”

Suffering a full body blush for that, Dean stuttered in his movements, staring down at this glorious specimen of a man. 

“Cocky son of a bitch,” he moaned. “Where’s the lube?”

Eyes crinkling, Cas laughed at hearing the fervor in Dean’s voice. Huffing a laugh through his own impatience, Dean located the bottle near his leg. He uncapped it and squeezed a generous amount on his fingers and palm. Rubbing it warm first, he closed his hand around Cas’ dick, giving him a few teasing strokes. Dean took in the view of Cas, moaning through the teeth digging into his lower lip, heated gaze glued to his face when he fucked into the circle of Dean’s hand. His own erection jumped at the sight, demanding its turn and suddenly it was all Dean could think of.

He shuffled closer on his knees, Cas gripping his thighs tightly. “Cas, I need…”

“I know, baby. Thought you’d never move…”

Dean gave Cas a few more strokes, slicking him up, before lining himself up and sinking down on him in a slow, blissful stroke that burned just the hellish side of heavenly. The smirk Cas sent him through his drawn-out moan was smug enough for Dean to snarl lightly. He leaned over, hands landing on either side of Cas, and he shifted his hips, before working his muscles and slamming down on Cas to the hilt. He wasn’t sure what his face did, but Cas surged forward to kiss him, before falling back to the mattress with a delirious groan. Dean thought he was doing a fine job of taking him apart… until Cas grabbed his hips and put his strength to work and they balanced out to near perfection.

Who was he kidding? _Perfection_.

With nearly every delicious thrust, Dean panted through a wailing sound. He dug his fingers into Cas’ stomach, clutched onto his shoulders. He licked into his mouth, heedless of anything but getting as much out of this as he could. Pillows were kicked aside left, right and center. 

His heels digging into the mattress, Cas met Dean halfway for every thrust, flexing muscles catching the golden light. Dean slid his hands over his chest for leverage, shamelessly savouring the view of Cas’ glistening length burying itself deep inside Dean every few seconds. When he looked up, his eyes were burning into Dean’s, lips parted.

“Your hips… seem… to be… doing… just _fine_ ,” Dean smirked through their synchronised soft moans.

Dean grinned wider when the words registered with Cas, as he sank down on Cas’ dick with a sharper snap of his hips. Saw those gorgeous blues soften, despite the swirling darkness that seemed to make wordless promises. Dean leaned forward, angling for Cas to hit his sweet spot, a drip of sweat hesitating on the tip of his nose, before it cascaded down to land on Cas’ lips.

Cas licked it off. Allowing himself to fall forward with a moan, Dean tracked his tongue with his eyes.

“Hip. Only one,” Cas panted into his mouth. “And I’m going to feel this tomorrow, make no mistake.”

A sliver of guilt spiked through the pleasure and Dean pushed himself up on his arms to take the weight off, the subtle movement in his muscles giving away his intentions before he realised he was trying to shift them to another position.

“Don’t,” Cas ordered, one hand gripping down tight on Dean’s wrist, as he thrust in harder. He claimed Dean’s lips in the next breath as he slammed into Dean just hard enough to knock the breath out of him, then held his gaze. “Do. Not.”

The whispered need in his tone gave it away. Dean looked closer through his own haze. If eyes were the window to the soul, Cas’ windows were wide open, laying him bare. Wrecked, as he looked at Dean as if he was the only person worth being with in the world. Dean trembled, a deep vibrating emanating from his core outward, unable to look away. This was headlong. Inevitable. Insane. 

He pressed his forehead to Cas’, willing them to meet in this same brittle moment.

Seeing fireworks, Dean whined when Cas hit his prostate and hid in the warm nook of Cas’ neck and shoulder. Cas’ tongue laved at his neck, as he gripped down on his hips and lifted him, nailing the same spot inside Dean. There was nothing but heartfelt promise in his voice, when Cas whispered, and Dean briefly wondered if he was delirious.

“That’s it… You feel so good on my dick, Dean. Let go… I’ve got you, baby. I’ve got you. You’re mine.”

Cas shifted them, his strength taking Dean by surprise _again_ , landing them on their side. He hooked an arm behind Dean’s knee, spreading him wider. In the space of two seconds Dean went from being in control to fully at Cas’ mercy. Grinning ferally at Dean’s facial expression, Cas kissed him once, before he started to set the pace. 

He ground into Dean, deep and slow. Fingers digging into Cas’ flanks, Dean held on for the ride, working his muscles around his dick. He entwined his fingers in the back of his neck, both of them whimpering nonsense into the pocket of hot air between them. Cas took him harder, filthily so, and slowed to sumptuous undulations of his hips the next moment. They kept up with each other, their blending sounds reaching for the heavens.

Eventually Dean’s vocal chords gave out and he was reduced to breathy panting, the kind that’d leave his throat hoarse tomorrow. He let out a frustrated sound, drawing Cas out of his own wrecked state, eyebrows raised.

“Kisses,” Dean ordered in a fucked out voice between thrusts.

Eyes going from determinedly focused to soft in the breath it took Dean to say it, Cas dropped down on one elbow, caressing Dean’s jawline with his knuckles before claiming his lips. They stayed like this, moving in blissful sync.

The tremor in Cas started first, his core trembling with impending orgasm. When Cas smiled at him through the teeth biting into his pillowy bottom lip, sweat gleaming across his skin, Dean could only mirror it. And proceeded to keel over a first edge when Cas’ hand closed around his cock, expertly stroking him to near instant completion. Cas held his gaze hungrily and Dean found he couldn’t look away, lips parted around Cas’ muted name.

Dean had barely enough time to drag his fingers through Cas’ thick hair, voice gone, as he came silently over his stomach and Cas’ hand, Cas shamelessly drinking in the view. He shuddered under the waves of pleasure. He watched Cas’ face fall slack as his moans changed and he leaned down to reclaim Dean’s lips for mere seconds, his hips stuttering. Dean’s name became a veritable prayer spilling into his mouth as Cas filled him up, not breaking eye contact until the very end.

They stayed that way for trembling moments, chests heaving, trying to find their way back down.

Shooting Dean the softest smile yet, Cas flopped onto his side, wrapping Dean in his arms. Under a pleased hum, Cas planted a kiss to his temple, and _sighed_. The deep, blissed out kind. Dean’s eyes fluttered shut, sinking into the moment.

“Happy Valentine’s indeed,” Dean muttered.

“Hmm,” Cas echoed fondly.

Dean mewled in protest, when Cas disentangled from him much too soon and got out of the bed.

“Hold your horses,” he smiled. “You’ll thank me in a minute.”

“I’m already grateful _now_. You don’t need to do anything else.”

An affectionate chuckle followed as Cas left and a glaring light came on in the next room. A bathroom. Water started running and his voice sounded muffled in water around the one word. “Brat.”

Unable to stop smirking, Dean flopped an arm over his eyes to block out the light. “Your brat,” he said softly, knowing Cas couldn’t hear it. Wondering if he’d misheard when Cas called him his.

The mattress dipped and he removed his arm to find the bright light extinguished and Cas sitting on his knees, holding out a washcloth. Dean let out an appreciative sound when he took it and found it warm to the touch. He cleaned himself off, while Cas did the same, the moment a lot more natural than he’d expected.

Again with the expectations. He ought to stop that. Pleasantly surprised.

Castiel opened his hand and Dean gave back the cloth. He watched him walk back to the bathroom without turning on the light, the yellow hue of the lamps playing across his muscles. Unbidden, the sight of how Cas had looked at him materialised in front of him and his breath hitched. And just like that his brain threatened to kick back into fifth gear.

If it wasn’t for Cas returning, stupidly at ease in his nakedness, as he grabbed two of the lost pillows and fluffed them up. He slid back into bed with Dean and they mucked about with the sheets until they slotted together, Dean wrapped in Cas’ arms.

Dean let out a huge yawn. “Umm… The lights?”

Cas stretched out an arm and fiddled with a small remote. Darkness enveloped them.

A kiss to his lips. Another to his temple. A third behind his ear. A sweet lick at the shell.

Dean sighed, stole another kiss, before settling into the cocoon. He closed his eyes, breathing in Cas, in search of sleep and finding it effortlessly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is half the size of the previous one. You know what they say about foreplay.
> 
> *coughs and side-eyes self* Anyhoo. 
> 
> With this, I wish you all a Very Happy Valentine's Day indeed! I hope this more or less paid off for the build-up. If yes, toss me some love. If not, you can yell at me in the comments, though fair warning, I'm known to be selectively deaf.
> 
> The next installment is tomorrow. Which I now realise I also put on the previous chapter, which is silly.
> 
> I love you. Hope you are feeling loved and are safe and content, wherever you are.  
> Mal


	27. February 15th, 2020

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “’s Alright. I can go,” he muttered, as he made to disentangle from Cas’ arms.
> 
> Cas jerked up next to him, his grip on Dean tightening. “Mhhwait, what?”

**Saturday, February 15** **th** **2020**

Dean woke with a start, for a second confused by his surroundings. His brain felt sluggish, his body slow in its movements as he tried to remember where he was. He’d woken from a dream that had evaporated as soon as he opened his eyes, but its effects lingered. Not a bad dream, but disjointed. He felt lost.

The scent of Cas hit him as the softness of the warm body next to him registered. Cas’ breathing came evenly and, like a child, Dean whispered into the dark.

“Cas?”

“Mmmm,” Cas hummed, somehow  _ still _ sounding blissed out.

Dean couldn’t help feeling a touch of smug at that, even more so when Cas rolled closer and wrapped himself around Dean in all kinds of ways that made his heart melt. It soothed his racing pulse. How he nuzzled in his neck, pushing his nose to the bolt of his jaw. Slow, warm, soft kisses were his gift to the sensitive skin behind Dean’s ear, down his neck to end up on his shoulder. The gentle care behind them made him feel like Cas was offering the world with every kiss. Dean let out a long sigh, closing his eyes.

“Mmwhy?” Cas mouthed against his skin.

“Hmm?” Dean tilted his head towards his, Cas’ hair tickling his cheekbone.

“Why ask if I’m awake?”

“I don’t know,” Dean said. He wanted to laugh it off, but found his throat constricted. “Wasn’t sure if I’d been dreaming.”

Cas sounded blearily pleased, his breath warm. “If those are your kind of dreams, I wouldn’t mind hooking up on the regular.”

Dean coughed gently, unsure of what to say, and tensed lightly. A regular… Hook-up? Fuck buddies? Too much, too fast. Or rather: not enough. It had happened before. His brain fought against the fog unsuccessfully, except for one thing.

Dean wasn’t sure of a lot, but he was convinced that wasn’t what he wanted. Which triggered his flight response. Give him any physical confrontation and he fought. Faced with a potential witness other than Missouri to his worst inner turmoil...

“’s Alright. I can go,” he muttered, as he made to disentangle from Cas’ arms.

Cas jerked up next to him, his grip on Dean tightening. “Mhhwait, what?”

Perhaps it was the darkness enveloping them that made him blurt out the truth, or some part of it.

“I get it, man. I figured you wouldn’t want someone like me. Not like that anyway.”

Cas let rip an annoyed, weary sound and a not-so-gentle nudge was Dean’s part, as Cas scooted around until one of those mineral lamps came back on, casting the room in a warm pink hue this time around. The lamps change colour, Dean realised. They both squinted, until they didn’t and Dean was forced to meet his eyes.

His hair was an utter mess. Dean itched to reach out and smooth it over. The expression there was one he hadn’t seen very often. Well, partly. The confusion was almost a given, but the annoyance was new. Cas rubbed a hand over his face as he sighed.

“Like you? Like what? How?” Cas blurted out. “Explain, please, Dean.”

Dean hesitated for a second, but hey, he’d come this far. Might as well get this out in the open too.

“Burnt out, a mess, sitting around at home,” he said. “Not good…”

He caught himself in time, but saw Cas tense up, his eyes widening in understanding.

“Ah,” Cas mumbled, as he lay down on his side, leaning his head on his hand, while he reached out to Dean with the other. “I see how that might have come off wrong. Poor phrasing on my part.”

There was a quiet swirling of hopeful uncertainty within. When Dean didn’t react, Cas made a soft ‘ _ tsk _ ’ sound as he tilted his head at Dean, eyes deeply kind. “You’re not a mess, Dean.”

Dean let his gaze skitter through the room, but there wasn’t enough light to genuinely focus on anything. “Yeah, well, you weren’t there for the worst of it.”

“That’s just it,” Cas said, as he held out his hand in the air and Dean mirrored the gesture, their palms meeting. Dean watched the hairs on his arm stand on end at the feather light touch. “You’ve gotten through the worst of it.”

He let out a gentle snort, that ended in a confused sigh, when Cas’ fingers entwined with his own.

“We’ve both talked about our pasts. Without getting swept away by it.”

“Your story was from a lot longer ago.”

“With a fallout to today. What I said still holds,” Cas insisted, squeezing down on Dean’s hand gently. “That’s how it’s supposed to work. It can hurt. Old or new hurt, it can still make you emotional, but it doesn’t own you.”

“You make it sound so functional.”

“Only because it’s what I’ve seen, Dean, and heard. And felt.”

“How dreadful.”

Cas positively glared at him and Dean’s eyes widened, as he tried to go for innocent in the face of it.

“ _ Dean _ ,” Cas said, tone insistent. “Sweetheart… You are so much more than your burn-out. It would do you good to realize it. Perfection isn’t human.”

The term of endearment had him pulling Cas closer, his chest expanding, knots loosening up.

“You’re coming damn close, Cas.”

Cas laughed at that, deep, vibrant, squeezing Dean to his chest. “Stick around for a while. I get bad days too. Hell, yesterday was… It’s why…”

Cas faltered and he looked away, which was so uncharacteristic, Dean instinctively crowded into his space, entangling their legs. His head was swimming slightly at the rollercoaster ride of the last minutes.

“It’s why you what?”

Blue eyes, darker in the soft light, met his, so full of gentleness, Dean leaned in to kiss him. Just before he closed his own eyes, he watched the worry fade from Cas’ forehead, as his eyelids fluttered shut. It was a gentle kiss, imploringly soft.

“Cas?” Dean muttered against his lips.

“It’s why I asked you over. I mean, why I said that the opening was there. I wanted you with me.”

Dean’s brain wasn’t firing right, because all he heard was that Cas had wanted to be with him. Meant this.

“Oh,” was all he managed, disbelief oozing off the one sound.

“Yeah, oh,” Cas said, his tone shifting into something steelier.

“Don’t give me that stink eye,  _ sir _ .”

A flicker of possessiveness in those eyes, which died out as soon as Dean thought he saw it. “Can I make an educated guess and trust you to tell me if I’m right?”

“Do your worst.”

“Careful what you ask for, Dean,” Cas chuckled. “You thought I regretted what happened.”

“Define what happened.”

“Brat,” Cas bit through an amused grin. “The sauna.  _ This _ . Tonight. Me fucking you senseless, while I’m pretty sure your name on my lips was close to a mantra.”

Dean felt the blush radiate from his chest up his neck and cheeks. “Fuck’s sake, Cas.”

“Well?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

Dean flashed him a look of defiance. “Yes, you are right.”

A cocky tilt of his head, as Cas leaned in, his breath ghosting Dean’s lips. He gave them a soft nip. “Never.”

“Never what?”

Cas grabbed him and pulled him in, large hands cupping his face in a way that made Dean feel treasured, cherished,...loved. He found himself shivering under the touch. At the notion. And he  _ wanted _ .

“I would never regret you. I never will.”

“Whoa, Cas,” Dean whispered on an exhale. “Don’t hold back.”

Which he hadn’t meant as an invitation, but it was easy to see how Cas could have construed it as one. Dean yelped softly when Cas lunged forward, claiming his lips in a determined kiss, plundering his mouth, as he pulled Dean flush to him. Their embrace was warm skin on skin and tangible pounding heartbeats. The heat of which simmered down just as quickly. With a few butterfly kisses, they settled into the hug.

Dean opened his eyes to find Cas fill his entire view. There was a touch of exasperation to his expression, but fondly, all in all.

“You are tremendously bossy,” Dean faux-grumbled.

Cas squinted at him, face softening immediately. “And you ought to know full well that it’s you who brings it out. Especially when you speak about yourself that way.”

“Are you always this zen?” Dean asked.

“Not by a long shot. You should have seen me as a teenager.”

The ‘ _ loose cannon _ ’ sprung to mind and Dean intended to get stories out of both Gabe and Cas in due time. Which implied something or other.

“How so?”

“Ask Naomi and Lucifer, when you meet them. They’ll be here tomorrow.”

_ When. Tomorrow. _ Oh, that implied something or other too, alright. A lot of it.

Dean’s heart skipped a few beats, before settling in a happy thrum.

“Older siblings aren’t the best reference.”

“Ehh,” Cas shrugged lightly.

“I regret not having known you sooner,” Dean said, searching Cas’ face for the younger version he’d never know.

He saw it in the way Cas’ eyes widened with mirth, memories clearly playing in his mind’s eye. “I’m not sure you know what you’re saying, but if you want to up your chances of seeing me distinctly less zen, there’s always our annual family trip. It usually drives us all up the wall. Lovingly.”

Dean laughed and to his own surprise, he didn’t question it. “Sounds like a ball.”

“Hmm,” Cas hummed, the vibrations sending a soothing ripple through Dean.

Dean almost admitted to it, the effect it had on him. “Hmm, indeed.”

“By the way,” Cas said, tone casual. “How would you feel about switching tomorrow? My poor hip and all.”

For all the whiplash he ought to have from the sudden change in subject, his response was instant. “Only tomorrow?”

Eyebrows shooting up, he nipped at Dean’s shoulder. “Or sooner… if you like.” 

It seemed Dean’s eagerness sent Cas’ mind on a tangent, muttering into his skin. “Oh, Dean, you are so gorgeous. Can’t wait.”

Dean let out a long groan at the images the casual suggestion had thrown up. “Jeezes fucking Christ, Cas… Twist my arm, why don’t you?”

He pulled Cas up into a soft kiss. They broke apart for an eye-gazing second, before Dean lapped into his mouth, in search of every sensation he could soak up. He hummed between the open mouthed, wet kisses.

“No magical yoga exercises to soothe the pain?”

Cas grinned against his lips, drawing a heady sound from Dean as he rolled their hips together. Languid and slow, Dean felt Cas’ dick filling out against his thigh, his own already standing at attention happily. 

“Plenty of exercises, but this… this works other wonders. And I want to feel you in me.”

“Gee, Cas, tell me how you really feel.”

“I feel you’re very mouthy,” Cas muttered into their kiss.

Dean smiled at him, sensing Cas’ arms wrapping around him, and made to crawl higher, when Cas looked away. A difficult to read emotion rippled over his features.

“What time is it?”

“Cas…?”

“The time?”

Dean reached over to the nightstand and checked his watch. “Seventeen past one. It’s officially no longer Valentine’s Day.”

As he settled back, Cas’ grip on him tightened and Dean looked at him from the vantage point on his chest. Something new shone in Cas’ eyes. It wasn’t quite pain. But it flickered out of existence too quickly for Dean to identify it further. All he could do was obey when Cas’ request registered.

“Come back here and prove otherwise,” Cas whispered.

Slowly crawling up, Dean kissed him, dragging Cas into a long, soothing make-out session. With every kiss, he tried to alleviate some of the pain he thought he’d seen. Time lost all meaning, the heavy curtains blocking out the light and with it, the world outside. Eventually, Castiel dozed off in Dean’s arms.

*

Cas woke him back up the best way possible. With a hand around his dick, kisses in his neck and the somehow sweetest and most intoxicating words possible to coax someone out of sleep for sex. Specifically, for Dean to have his way with Cas. 

He opened his eyes to the warm glow of the light and inhaled sharply at feeling what felt like miles and miles of a warm, blessedly naked  _ Cas  _ pressing against him. Dean didn’t quite know which way was up.

Well… Barring the glaringly obvious.

They clearly weren’t going to get much sleep tonight. 

Promises after all. 

Rolling his head back, Dean shuddered under Cas’ touch, feeling his blood rushing faster as his whole body got with the programme. When Cas’ hand gave his dick a languid stroke, he stuttered out a rough moan. Muttering out something he hoped sounded like a gentle warning, Dean batted his hand away from his cock soon enough. He tilted his head and found Cas frowning at him, his pouting lower lip drawing Dean in like gravity.

“If you want me inside you,” he trailed off softly. “I ain’t fifteen anymore, Cas.”

Castiel huffed sweetly, a mild mutinous frown on his face and Dean pulled him into a kiss by way of apology. Which quickly turned into something else, as Cas wrapped his legs around him and tugged Dean closer until he was draped over him. Dean was mesmerized by the way Cas’ body unfolded under his touch. 

He hadn’t been kidding when he said he wanted Dean to have his way with him. This shift felt so ridiculously natural, Dean took a second to send thanks out into the universe for putting Cas on his path, before bending over him.

Dean alternated a warm, wet trail of licks and bites down Cas’ neck to his chest to his stomach. Cas tasted like sweat, warmth and somehow honey, though chances were that was Dean’s imagination. Or infatuation. 

He flexed and squirmed, his skin heating up with every ministration. Clearly he was already worked up from before Dean woke up. Cas hissed through a low, pleased moan, when Dean sucked down harder on his nipple, his hand gripping tight in Dean’s hair. His scalp stung lightly as he tugged.

Humming at him in encouragement around the pebble, Dean let one hand meander down, until he could caress the inside of his thigh. A deep sense of delight welled up in his chest at feeling Cas’ legs fall wide so smoothly. When Cas’s breathing spiked, he chuckled warmly against his skin. The almost-but-never-quite-there touches worked wonders, as Cas moaned and writhed into him. Gripped down hard on his shoulder. 

Trading his tongue for his fingers, Dean pushed himself up to watch. See Cas get so beautifully nonsensical, his usual composure blown to bits.

His chest heaved with every breath. His hands grabbed at Dean, trying to pull him closer, but then he seemed to lose track of what he wanted and surrendered to the moment, Dean’s name on near-endless repeat, interspersed with ‘ _ yes _ ’ and ‘ _ more _ ’. His dick twitched into his hand eagerly, when Dean teased his thumb over the slit.

“Mmmh, Cas,” Dean huffed softly as Cas arched into his touch as he gave him a few languid strokes. “You’re so beautiful… how you respond.”

Hips thrusting in search of more, Cas looked at him and smiled one of those soft, somewhat overwhelmed smiles that oozed utter trust. Dean’s core temperature shot up at the glorious sight, when Cas’ tongue peeked through his lips and he whimpered. He licked his lips as he leaned forward, Cas’ arms coming around him immediately.

His breath was hot against Dean’s lips. “Dean, I need…”

“I know,” he said, voice rough. “Almost, Cas... patience…”

Cas let out a snarl at that and fucked harder into his hand. “None left. Give me what I want.”

“Cas, lube,” Dean protested, but Cas wrapped himself around Dean, his legs locking around Dean’s waist in a non-negotiable kind of way.

“Dean, fuck me.”

With a grunt that held the line between petulant and impressed, Dean padded around the sheets for the lube, ignoring Cas’ blatant request with effort. His dick did not agree in the slightest at this delay. Dean put some of his own strength to good use as he held Cas down, his hand to his chest.

“Give me a hot damn minute, honey,” Dean bit through a smile. “And I will.”

He released Cas and smirked softly, when Cas stilled and looked at him as if he was…  _ something _ , alright, Dean had trouble finding the words. And he was glad for it. No words. 

Deftly he squeezed some lube into his hand and rubbed it warm, before stroking himself. He twisted his wrist so his fingers closed the right way around his head. Cas moaned, eyes blown wide at the sight, and sat up on his elbows, letting out an impatient sound. His thighs trembled around Dean.

“Bossy,” Dean muttered, as he continued to jack himself off slowly.

Cas watched him, sufficiently distracted, his expression eager. But he kept moving. Dean leaned back on his haunches, breath coming faster, when he realized why Cas was doing so. 

With a flash of a smile, Cas pulled one leg in and scooted around until he was on his hands and knees. He backed up, in search of Dean. Instinctively, Dean’s hand shot out to caress his back. Cas’ muscles worked gloriously under his skin, rippling his tattooed wings as if they were real. Dean’s breath caught in his throat for a moment. The coy look Cas shot him over his shoulder was the best possible invitation, when Cas rubbed his ass against his dick.

Dean gripped him by the hip and rubbed his head over his hole. Pushed his thumb in teasingly and relished the whimpering snarl that provoked. His dick twitched and suddenly his whole system had enough of  _ waiting _ . He slid both hands over Cas’ back reverently once more, until they met at the angle of his hips and he dug his fingers into his muscles. He pushed past the initial resistance and slid into him, under the blissful drawn out sound of both of them moaning.

Dean squeezed his eyes shut at the tightness that enveloped him. He took a moment to breathe. Then Cas  _ moved _ . 

“Oh, gods, Dean, more...”

His eyes flew open. His lips parted as he watched Cas lean forward and fuck himself onto his cock. With a rough groan, Dean squeezed down harder on his hips, forcing him to pace himself. The frustrated mewl that followed spoke volumes about how Cas felt about that. 

A deep, pleased groan meshed with Cas’ whimper as Dean felt his tightness clamp down on him harder. He folded himself over Cas, nipping at his trapezoid. There was a subtle roll of his hips, a silent promise of what came next and Dean mumbled words of praise and beauty and pulled out in one swift move to slam back in. Cas keened deeply, relief palpable, his shoulder muscles working as he pushed into Dean’s thrusts.

Buried to the hilt in Cas, Dean found it hard to care about any lack of sleep. Neither did Cas, judging by the way he urged Dean on. There was as little space between them as was physically possible, as Dean began pounding Cas into the mattress.

The sounds he was eliciting from him were a different breed from the first time around. Dean relished it, worshipped him with all he had, all he felt. Kissed every part of him he could reach as he fucked into him, putting as much of what he felt into each one. Which was a lot more than he bargained for.

He changed his angle lightly and relished when Cas cried out. “Dean, Dean, yesss, god, yes, right there. Don’t stop.”

Still bossy, Dean mused, as he spaced out his hands on either side of Cas’ flanks and dipped his head lower to kiss between his shoulder blades. He repeated the motion, as Cas arched his back into the kisses, clamping down on his him through a shuddering moan. Dean hid in the crook of Cas’ neck, of the warmth of them. No way was he going to last as long as they had before, not when they were so close on the heel of the previous orgasm. Though to be fair, he had no real clue about the time at this point.

Cas reached around, clasping a possessive hand down in the back of Dean’s neck to pull him closer over his shoulder, and claimed his mouth. Once, twice, then fucked down on him harder. Dean angled his hips better and felt him clench down on him harder the second he hit Cas’ sweet spot again.

“Dean,” Cas moaned. “Oh, god, Dean… I’m almost… Keep going…”

There it was. That frantic betrayal of impending orgasm in true surrender. 

Cas’ breathing became harsher, as he clutched at Dean wherever he could. Dean could only reciprocate, as the thought of Cas coming with Dean inside him instantly made things delectably messy. Another sloppy, deep kiss. 

His hand came around to stroke Cas’ dick. Warm semen near-instantly shot into his hand and on the sheets, as Cas squeezed down on him hard, keening out his name in rapid succession. Dean’s hip muscles were on fire as he followed him over the edge, his forehead pressed to the back of Cas’ neck, his vision whiting out as he groaned out his name with every wave of pleasure.

Staring blearily at Cas’ wings, Dean’s arms were shaking. He made to move away from Cas, but there was an immediate protest as Cas let himself sink down on the mattress fully, his legs locked around Dean’s calves. 

“Lie down, baby,” Cas said through labored breathing. “Please.”

Even blissed out, that felt a bit tacked on. Endeared by all Cas brought to the table, Dean went with it. Cas groaned happily under his weight and wiggled until his arms were splayed wide. They lay together like that, breathing deeply into the silence of the room. 

The way his heart kept hammering wildly, Dean wondered if this broke him. 

One of Cas’ hands came around to pat at his hair sweetly, the fingers lingering on his cheekbone and searchingly finding his lips. It was such a stupidly sweet gesture, Dean didn’t quite know what to do with his new reality.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he muttered into Cas’ hair.

Sliding his hands under Cas’ chest, Dean smooshed them together even more and kissed the crook of his neck and his cheekbone, as Cas turned his head minutely. He looked thoroughly fucked out and sated like a cat in the summer sun.

“Please don’t. If you actually fall unconscious, I’m not sure I can get out from under you to call 911,” Cas mumbled, voice tight. “And it took me long enough to find you.”

Dean snorted gently as he lifted his weight off Cas. They broke apart, Cas stretching languidly under him as Dean fell onto his side, stifling a massive yawn. A deep sense of relaxation came over him and there followed an immediate contagious echoing yawn from Cas. He chuckled as he rolled towards Dean, wrapping his limbs around him.

“Octopus,” Dean muttered sleepily through another, smaller yawn.

Dean squirmed until he had one arm under Cas’ neck and around his shoulders, his fingers tracing over the wing tattoos, even though he could barely see them.

“Very,” Cas said. “Problem?”

“Hell, no. I love it.”

Which skated close enough to what he almost said out loud.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First chapter for this day. More smut incoming, just saying. Cause we gotta earn that rating.
> 
> If you're a strict bottom!Dean fan, then you might wanna skip the last part behind the asterisk (*). I tend to write switches, even when there's a top/bottom tag... for various reasons, none of which probably matter to you.
> 
> However, my beta can recommend? They are a strict bottom!Dean fan and were sufficiently interested by this.
> 
> Second upload after this!
> 
> Wishing you a lovely weekend, whatever you're up to (like reading fanfic from the warm cocoon of your couch, or whatever).  
> Love,  
> Mal


	28. February 15th, 2020 part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With a sudden gut-punch clarity that took his breath away, he realised which day it had to be.

**Saturday, February 15** **th** **2020**

Dean woke up to an empty bed.

He sat up, pleasantly aware of the hum in his muscles as he moved. Winced lightly when his ass didn’t entirely agree as he stood up, stretching his arms behind his head and up to the heavens, relishing the way his body spoke to him. He understood it. Today, at least.

“Mmh… Cas?” he muttered, voice low and hoarse.

No reply.

He hopped from one foot to the other, suddenly acutely aware of the signals his bladder was sending out and hurried to the bathroom. Closing the door behind him, he lifted the toilet seat and peed. His eyes fell to the sink. There was a new toothbrush, still in its packaging on top of a fresh towel and washcloth.

He flushed. Proceeded to wash his hands. And cursed, when he caught his reflection in the mirror. “Sonova…” 

Cas had done a number on him. Dean leaned closer to the mirror, angling himself to get a decent view. His heart kicked up its rate slightly at being marked like this. He didn’t mind one bit. But something else nagged at him, as he wet a washcloth and gave himself a quick wash. It was a slow sinking realisation that came to him, while he brushed his teeth. His gestures slowed down as he frowned at himself in the mirror.

For a surgeon and a health nut – pardon his French for a second there – he and Cas had been sufficiently careless last night. Twice over.

If there was any doubt left in his mind whether Cas had been into him, that probably settled it. Cas never struck him as careless or forgetful or prone to losing control. Dean’s job made it part of his standards. Somehow they had both just happily skipped past it. 

He knew his own status. He was also 100% sure Cas was aware of his and would never subject Dean to any kind of risk.

Still.

Probably worth a conversation out of simple respect. He spit out the toothpaste and rinsed his mouth.

After coffee though. 

And kisses.

He smiled fondly at the thought, one of those ‘ _ I can’t help myself _ ’ smiles.

Dean blamed that cloud nine for the fact that he was able to wander down the stairs, all the way into the kitchen, before he realised there were decidedly more than two people in the house. In fact there were seven, including himself. His brain froze. He wanted to bail back upstairs. Find a shirt, maybe. Hide in the bed until they were gone.

At least he’d put on Cas’ slacks. He hadn’t been able to find his own immediately and couldn’t be bothered to look harder. A blush crept up his neck when he realised just  _ how _ debauched he must look.

Oh-fucking-well-deal.

Coffee.

Food.

_ People _ .

They were sat around the large kitchen island. A pale woman with burgundy hair was sitting beside a dark-haired, bearded man with impossibly dark eyes, bickering over a plate of food. Anna was there, sitting alongside a tall, spiky-haired man with small, blue eyes that were studying Dean with clever intent. Opposite him was a short-haired, blonde woman, who shot him a smile over her shoulder. Her eyes were a striking blue, but not quite the same hue as Castiel’s.

“Morning, Dean,” Anna smiled. “Coffee?” 

He stood still for a few seconds, voice out for the count, and tried to wrap his head around the moment. The army of siblings. Cas had mentioned them coming over, Dean just hadn’t expected them to this early.

A quick glance at the massive clock in the kitchen told him it was past noon. Alright, fine, not that early.

“Dean.”

_ Oh, thank fuck, Cas was here. _

The way Cas said his name was like he was ambrosia on his tongue. Dean zoned in on him with all his being, like a friggin’ homing device. Cas, who was clad in, hello, Dean’s slacks and an AC/DC t-shirt, holding two steaming mugs of coffee, while leaning against the farthest counter. 

His eyebrows did that soft trick, asking Dean over. Shooting him a grateful, potentially slightly panicked look, Dean beelined for him and accepted the mug that said ‘ _ I wuv hugs _ ’. He sidled up to Cas, furthest away from the mass of strangers. To their credit, they largely went about their breakfast… lunch… whatever, as Dean tried to reassemble his pieces and access his English.

“I’m sorry I didn’t wake you sooner,” Cas muttered lowly. 

He planted a kiss on Dean’s scarred shoulder, the gesture melting some of the tension out of him.

Dean lifted his hand, pointed at the coffee and gave a curt shake of his head. To make up for the potentially asshole vibe he exuded, he bonked his forehead to Cas’ shoulder in turn and remained there for a few deep breaths, eyes closed. Cas’ chuckle really shouldn’t be this hot, but it made him smile either way.

He had to remove his head from Cas’ shoulder in order to drink, but they stood like that for a while, as the effects of his coffee set in slowly. The sibling army, either through sheer luck or because Cas had warned them beforehand, only started interacting with him after he’d poured himself a second mug and managed to hook up his brain again.

“Morning, everyone. Sorry about that, it takes me a minute to wake up.”

Anna practically beamed at him. And bless her, she tried to keep her eyes on his face. She pricked a finger at every one of her siblings, introducing them clockwise. “Meet Michael, Hannah, Naomi and Lucifer.”

“Morning,” Michael smirked as his eyes trailed down meaningfully, clearly a lot less diplomatic than his younger sister. “We trust you slept well?”

“Or not at all,” Hannah grinned.

Dean spluttered into his coffee, because that was a little too close to the truth, and looked to Cas for help. He couldn’t help but notice similar marks peeking out from under the wide v-neck of Cas’ shirt.

Excellent.

“I have no words,” Cas said, shaking his head. “You have a brother. You know what it’s like.”

“Yeah, I have  _ one _ . Not an army of assbutts. No offence.”

“Hey, he taught him his insults already,” Michael said to Hannah.

“Oh, none taken,” Lucifer said, dead-serious. “So what do you do?”

Okay, older brother pegged, for sure.

“Surgeon. Well, for now. I’m in between jobs,” he said, the admission briefly upping his heart rate.

Might as well be honest to this lot. Because apparently he was already meeting the family. Which didn’t freak him out as much as it probably should.

“It happens,” Lucifer nodded. “From what Cas told me, you sound like you know how to handle your shit.”

How burn-out lined up with that, Dean didn’t know, but the smooth confidence that he was bestowed somehow eased the nerves that had blind-sided him.

Cas leaned closer and Dean wondered if he was trying to disappear under his skin. Or help ground Dean, as Dean still had one hand clutched onto the counter, the other around his mug like it was his last lifeline. The whisper in his ear came in low and soothing. 

“Look at the way they behave around us… If this doesn’t tell you I mean it, that I’ve meant it for a while…”

With a relieved sigh, Dean tilted into the sound, angling his head so their foreheads touched.

“Ahh, young love.” Lucifer glanced over at them, across the distance. Whether he’d heard Cas’ words, Dean didn’t know.

Dean felt the restrained temper in the man, but saw Anna drop her head onto his shoulder, shamelessly using the force of her doe eyes and, undoubtedly, baby sister status, as she addressed him. “You’re allowed to smile, poppa bear. Even today.”

Dean was taken by surprise by the grief he saw in both their faces, hers more subtly than this, but unaware of each other’s. Anna ducked her head, nosing into his shoulder, and Lucifer pressed a long kiss to her forehead, eyes closed. 

Her face settled into nostalgia, which somehow reminded him of Sam, whenever they talked about their Mom. Lucifer’s contorted with a deep sorrow that Dean had felt once in his life, seen several times over since then during his career. And at times, in the mirror.

With a sudden gut-punch clarity that took his breath away, he realised which day it had to be.

Dean turned wide eyes on Cas, willing the wordless question to make it across. There was a tenderness in those blue eyes and Cas let out a soft hum, nodding as he hid in his own mug of tea. Perhaps the grounding had been mutual and, if so, it was entirely subconscious on Dean’s part. He reached out his free hand, snaking his arm around Cas’ waist and splaying it on his lower back, pulled him flush to his side, seeking to share warmth.

In the way Cas nudged his forehead to Dean’s temple and his fingers butterflied over his stomach, Dean felt that whatever he found with Cas went both ways.

“I thought you liked to use your words,” Dean said.

“I thought I told you I turn into a bit of an idiot around you,” Cas smiled fondly.

Dean snorted softly. “Promising.”

When Anna got up from her chair to pour herself some more coffee by his other side, Dean held her eyes. For a second, she frowned, tilting her weight from foot to foot.

“Yeah, welcome to the family,” Anna said, voice soft.

He leaned closer to her. No one had used the words ‘ _ Happy Birthday _ ’ so far and it seemed a risk to say it. “Do you always adopt strangers so easily?”

“You’re no stranger. Cas has been talking about you for weeks,” Anna scoffed.

Dean looked at Cas, confused, and heard Michael echo Anna’s sound. “Yeah, you’re an idiot,” he added.

“Mike!” Cas snapped.

“What? Did I say who I was addressing? Either/or, really.”

“But he’s right,” Lucifer put in.

“Oooh! Oh! Oh! Lucifer agrees with me! Make note!”

“Look what you’ve done, Luci,” Naomi said, mock-desperate.

“Hell, how did you guys hold onto your sanity?” Dean joked.

“We didn’t,” Lucifer said, shooting Dean a wink. “Consider yourself warned.”

Naomi smiled. “We weren’t home for most of the day. You’re better off asking Cas why we didn’t come home to a CSI crime scene.”

Cas shrugged. “Patience and a noise-cancelling headphones. Besides, I worked too.”

Anna sipped her coffee. “These guys all held some weird ass jobs along the way.”

“Not this again,” Naomi groaned.

“Oh, yeah?” Dean grinned. “Like what?”

Michael and Hannah snapped their heads up like vultures, provoking another groan from Naomi and a deep, tired sigh from Lucifer, as he tried to decide on which apple to pluck from the fruit basket.

“You did it now,” Cas smirked.

“Luci worked as a body-for-hire,” Michael started. “Which isn’t what it sounds like. Or so he always claimed.”

Lucifer grinned wolfishly as he bit into a bright red apple.

“Naomi was a golf ball collector for a while.”

“And a shot girl,” Naomi added. “Neither of which had much long term value. One paid the bills better than the other.”

“And Cas worked at that weed plantation, off the books obviously.”

“Off our radar too,” Lucifer grunted.

Dean glanced to Cas, who grinned wide, as he joined in the conversation.

“Hey, I brought stuff home. No one complained about that,” Cas said defensively. “I also did voice work for a while.”

Hannah squinted at him. “You mean, phone sex. I never forgot when I walked in on that.”

“It’s not like you walked in on me wanking, sister dear, that was the other guy. And I really did do voice work as well.”

“That  _ would  _ work wonders,” Dean mused, as he let the information sink in. “Do you still…?” He trailed off, smirking.

Cas shot him a dark look. “For you, I will,” he whispered.

Dean’s coffee shot down the wrong pipe at that and he suffered a mild coughing fit. Eyes watering, he accepted the apologetic peck to the corner of his mouth. The expression on Cas’ face wasn’t exactly meek though.

He looked to the army and cleared his throat.

“So they worked all these jobs for your sakes?”

Dean had asked it carefully, tone even, innocent almost, but Lucifer snapped his eyes to him. For a few seconds they held each other’s gaze and Dean saw his face soften, as they seemed to align in understanding what it meant.

“Yeah, they did,” Hannah nodded.

Anna beamed. “Spoiled us stupid against all odds.”

“Not in the classical sense of the word,” Michael added.

There was an almost comical triplet aspect to the three youngest, despite their ages being relatively far apart.

Michael grinned at Dean. “We like revisiting all of that. Just to see them squirm.”

“Siblings gonna sibling,” Anna smiled. “But we love you.” She squeezed Lucifer.

“Let’s get some food into you maybe?” Cas suggested.

“Yeah, regain your strength,” Michael grinned.

“You’re gonna get along splendidly with my brother-in-law,” Dean squinted at him.

“Why?”

“Cause he’s a grade A, no filter douche like you, no doubt,” Anna smirked.

Dean barked a loud laugh, surprising himself. “You’re closer to the truth than you think, but at heart, he’s all sugar and spice.”

“We look forward to meeting your family, Dean,” Anna said.

How could this be so easy all of a sudden?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second bit for today!
> 
> The final chapter will be uploaded next Saturday. *insert a Very Dramatic Paw To Forehead here*
> 
> INCIDENTALLY! If anyone has recommendations for a place to upload my art so I can link it to AO3, much obliged. I have a little something lined up. Not half as good as I'd want it to be, but learning curve.
> 
> As always, I'd love to hear your reactions, as the curtain's about to drop on this fic. Thank you for being here!  
> Love,  
> Mal


	29. February 22nd, 2020

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Paint me a fool, Dean, and you’ll find a picture close to my own liking.”
> 
> Perhaps the overdose of healthy air was getting to Cas’ brain. Or Dean’s for missing the point. “Alright, Shakespeare, what does that mean?”

**Saturday, February 22nd 2020**

Dean leaned over, his face close to Cas’. He wasn’t sure how he felt about being this close to the bees too, but Cas’ almost childlike enthusiasm when it came to his rooftop hives was easy to get swept up in. Cas even built a wall to protect them from the wind and added three planters of wildflowers that would bloom by March.

“Can you hear them?”

Cas’ face rearranged itself in that excitedly open childlike expression, as he cocked his head and gently tapped the side of the hive. A soft buzzing picked up, which had Dean smiling. “So did they make it through winter?”

“Yes,” Cas said, mirroring his smile. “I checked in on them two weeks ago. The cluster’s fine. They have honey, but I need to keep an eye on them in case of mites or disease.”

Dean huffed worriedly at the thought. “So what? Bees get antibiotics?”

“Mmh, not if I can help it,” Cas hummed. “I’m still trying to figure out what’s best. Chemical medication is never a good idea and essential oils can also mess with them.”

“So how do you protect them?”

“The oil keeps ants out, for starters,” Cas gestured at the vat at knee-height around the pole that held the hive.

“Hey!” a voice called from downstairs. “Anyone home?!”

“They’re early,” Dean said with a huff. He rolled his eyes. “Of course they are.”

“What did you expect, really?” Cas smiled.

They walked to the side of the roof, off-set by a chest-high wall on all sides, and glanced over, Dean slightly more hesitant than Cas. When the wind pulled at him just as he was about to take a look, he recoiled, swallowing audibly. Cas side-eyed him, reaching out with his hand.

“You okay?” Cas asked.

“Heights,” he said, voice tight. “Not a fan.”

Cas laced their fingers together, sounding quite upset, though whether at Dean or himself, he couldn’t say. “Why the hell didn’t you say so?”

Dean shrugged and palmed a hand in the back of his neck, as he looked at Cas. “Cause you were so eager to show me your bees.”

Eyes softening, Cas nuzzled into him and planted a sweet kiss on his lips. Dean happily leaned into the sensation, slipping his hands under his coat and pulled him closer. When he angled his head and tried to gain access to Cas’ delectable mouth, he got a muffled protest for his efforts. A rather weak one, when Cas wrapped his arms around Dean tightly and opened up with a soft moan.

“Company,” he said into their kiss, shooting Dean a fond look.

Dean huffed sweetly and they peeked over the side.

Sam and Gabe were coming around the side of the house, Colt in tow, and headed for the back as they stared inside in search of signs of life. Charlie and Dorothy were getting stuff out of the trunk of Sam’s car.

“Up here!” Dean called. “With the bees!”

Sam looked up first and Colt barked happily. Gabe told him to sit and surprisingly he did, his pink tongue lolling out of his mouth. Charlie waved with both arms, while Dorothy slung the duffel over her shoulder. “You guys! This house is awesome!”

“Hiya, Cas!” Sam smiled.

“Hey!” Cas exclaimed. “Nice to meet you all!” 

His voice faltered, when his eyes fell to Gabriel and Dean watched with interest as Cas’ face scrunched up. He snickered. Leave it to Gabe to make an unforgettable impression. Castiel’s cogs whirred almost audibly as he leaned further down, until Dean got thoroughly uncomfortable and grabbed him by the back of his pants. Cas yelped as he got pulled back from the edge.

“He remembers!” Dean yelled down.

Gabriel’s opened his arms wide as he smiled. “Of course he does! Cassie! Small world, huh?!”

“I know I’m remembering something, but what?” Cas asked, confused.

“The family lawyer?” Gabriel said. “That in-the-closet disaster you hung out with.”

“He’s still a disaster,” Charlie offered, as she petted Colt’s head. “But no longer in the closet.”

Castiel scoffed in wonder, as the pieces fell into place rapidly. “Small world indeed. It’s good to see you again! We’ll be out in a bit. Back door is open, if you want. Or you can sit in the garden.”

“What about Colt?”

Castiel laughed. “This house has seen a lot worse than a dog saved from death row. Make yourselves at home!”

Dean eyed Dorothy. “Hey, what gives with the duffel, Oz?”

“We hoped to make use of the sauna,” she smiled.

“No walking? But it’s good for what ails you.”

“Who are you even?” Charlie asked, as she held a hand over her eyes, squinting up at him.

“Your loss.”

“I doubt it,” Charlie grinned. “I hear good things happen there.”

“You ain’t wrong,” Dean smirked. 

Cas turned to Dean, eyes shining, as they stepped back from the wall.

“Gabriel… What are the odds? Oh, they’re going to love seeing him back.”

“Your siblings?”

“Yes. He left quite an impression.”

“Doesn’t he always?” Dean smiled. “He worked it out first. He may also be the one who nudged me to meet up with you again and sort all _this_ out.” He gestured at the space between them, which made Cas quirk an eyebrow.

“And some lovely sorting we’ve done already,” Cas said softly as he stepped closer. “Remind me to thank the man properly.”

“Might want to be careful how you phrase that.” Dean blinked as another one of _those_ smiles broke through. “So uh… I have news for you.”

“Hmm?”

Dean hopped from one foot to the other, biting his lower lip. “I got a reply from the fire department.”

In an instant, Cas was in his personal space, all eager nerves. “And? What did they say?”

He smiled, arms going wide and laughed as he said it. “I can go in for a first interview next week.”

“I knew it! I knew they’d go for you!” 

Laughing, Cas pulled him in for a tight hug that squeezed down on him in every perfect way possible. He grabbed Dean’s face with both hands and kissed him. One long kiss, followed by a bunch of butterfly kisses all over his face that had him giggling like an idiot.

He sighed, allowing the relief to flood his system, as the reality of his changed circumstances sank in. “It’s just a first interview, but they sounded enthusiastic. So yeah… You’re gonna have your work cut out for you to get me into shape.”

“I’m sure we can find the best workouts that suit both our needs,” Cas grinned wide.

He snaked his arms around Dean’s waist and nipped at his lips. They really ought to go downstairs, but Dean didn’t want to. Not yet.

“Hey Cas, I’ve been meaning to ask you…”

Cas’ eyebrows went up in curiosity, his eyes sparkling in the light of the sun. “Yes?”

Dean nosed his cheek in search of the gentle scrape of his scruff. “You’ve mentioned several times you prefer to be explicit.”

“To various degrees and in different ways,” Castiel said. “Indeed. Why?”

“Why did you want me with you? Valentine’s...”

“Paint me a fool, Dean, and you’ll find a picture close to my own liking.”

Perhaps the overdose of healthy air was getting to Cas’ brain. Or Dean’s for missing the point. “Alright, Shakespeare, what does that mean?”

“It means that you, without knowing it clearly,” Cas said, his eyebrow doing that sassy thing, “have been a blessing in my life, pretty much the second you showed up. You may as well have come down from heaven on a pair of wings.”

“By detour of hell, I assure you,” Dean quipped. “You’re the one with the wings.”

Cas smiled at him as he pulled him closer by his belt loops, putting them chest to chest, the wind tugging at them. “And you’re the one with the magic hands.”

This provoked a soft huff. “Pretty sure it’s your hands that healed me,” Dean muttered.

Cas shrugged delicately, as if he was highly amused, his nose wrinkling as he spoke. “A pair of fools then?”

Dean exhaled roughly, gazing up at the skies overhead, before looking back to an infinitely more beautiful kind of blue. He scraped his boot over the rooftop gravel. “I was going for masochist and sucker, but fool works too.”

“A masochist?”

“I couldn’t stay away from you, even when I thought you were with Anna. I wanted to be your friend just to be near you.”

Cas sounded sufficiently appalled at the idea and made a face at him. “Anna? Oh, shit, _that’s_ why…?”

“Yeah, Cas, that’s why I was weird around you. Jeezes, you never considered…”

“She’s my sister!”

“I didn’t know that!”

“You could have asked.” 

“ _Details_. I’m pretty sure she had us pegged before we did.” He nipped at Cas’ lips. “Now answer my question.”

Castiel scrunched up his face, his breath ghosting over his lips. “I thought it’d be obvious, especially since you figured it out the next day. Our mother died on February 15th. Anna’s birthday has never stopped being a two-edged sword, depending on the mindset of each of us. Some years, it goes by relatively smoothly. Others, not so much.”

“So this year wasn’t relatively smooth?”

“The run-up to it wasn’t,” Cas said. “There was a lot going on for me. You, most of all, I suppose.”

He stepped further into Dean’s space when he caught the smug smile. Flashing him a contrite look and planting a sweet kiss to the corner of his mouth, Dean wrapped an arm around his shoulders. He carded his fingers through the curly hair at the back of Cas’ neck. Cas’ arms looped around his waist. 

“I guessed that was it, yeah. It was Lucifer’s face that gave it away. And Anna’s. She reminded me of Sam.”

Cas smiled, a touch ruefully. “It’s good to know Luci isn’t as unreadable as he thinks he is. Though it takes one to know one, I suppose.”

“Let me get back to you on that one. I can’t tell if it’s potentially an insult.”

Castiel snickered. He turned his face to Dean, eyes bright and steady. A little hesitant, perhaps. “I wanted you with me. I wanted you with me either way, but seeing as we were lining up for that anniversary, I wanted you with me even more.”

Brows furrowed, he regarded Dean and whatever he was mulling over, Dean waited it out, curious. Eventually Cas nodded.

“Let me rephrase. I want you with me. Period.”

It felt like the wind caught under his clothes, lifting pressure off his skin. The words were out of Dean’s mouth before he realised it. “I’d kinda given up on this.”

Cas looked at him, the way he moved his eyebrows expressing a mute question. His hands snuck up, putting pressure between Dean’s shoulder blades. 

“I didn’t have the energy for it. Missouri and I agreed that maybe the energy I did have needed to go to me. Regain my footing.”

Cas looked at him, scrutinizing, and it wasn’t a huge leap to guess why. As he had from the start, he was worried about Dean. Dean scoffed gently and rolled his eyes.

“We were obviously wrong.”

The way he smiled, his fingers scritching the back of Dean’s head, Cas was quickly becoming the hot, bright center of his universe. The glorious smile that crinkled his eyes lit up his face and Dean’s heart with it. 

He vowed to make Cas smile like that as often as he could. He had no idea where these words kept coming from, but there was no stopping them. His hands squeezed down harder on Cas, but there was no more space separating them.

“I haven’t wanted like this in a long time. I find myself wanting. Want more. Want you. Want to give.”

Cas cocked his head at him, eliciting a softer smile. Dean wondered if he was even aware he did it.

“I want to be there when you paint, watch you handle those bees on your roof and work out with you. Whichever form you have in mind…”

A wicked flick of his tongue over his teeth, as Cas licked his lip and pursed them together, eyes narrowing. Dean couldn’t imagine ever getting enough of him.

“I want to become a paramedic and come home to you in firefighter battle gear.”

The way one of Cas’ eyebrows ticked up at the mental image, he wasn’t the only one with a thing for men in uniform. Dean smirked at him, waggling his eyebrows, before he continued, enjoying the feelings loosening up inside him and they way Cas seemed to hold space for them.

A touch of incredulity crept in his tone. “I know it’s insane and it’s too much, too soon…” 

Cas hummed, frowning, in gentlest protest, speaking for the first time since Dean started. “It might be too much too soon for some, but only if you and I are at a different pace.”

Dean held his breath, as he chewed the inside of his cheek. “I’ve gotten too old to waste time… Not when it feels like this. So are we? At a different pace?”

Cas regarded him. A long, intent moment, that had Dean scrambling for interpretation, because all of a sudden he wasn’t sure he could read Cas. Not the way Cas seemed to read him. A different, older part of him knew better, of course.

Perhaps he was growing fond of hearing certain words spoken out loud.

“No, Dean. I feel like you and I are very even paced. Some might disagree, but how you and I go about this is our prerogative, no one else’s. And I’ve enjoyed every second with you, even when we were being idiots. I’d like more. I want you. All of you. Everything.”

Dean let out an explosive exhale, hiding in Cas’ shoulder for a bit as he muttered his gut-fuelled reply. “Thank fuck for that, Cas, cause I really want that too. You can kick my ass into gear for the fire department. I’ll keep your car in order. I’ll…”

Cas nosed into him, nipping at his lips with a warning hum that shut Dean up. “There will be many things involving your ass, I’m sure, but kicking won’t be one of them. And you don’t need to be making yourself useful all the time for me to want you around, Dean. Just having you near me comes close to nirvana.”

“Sap,” Dean chided, but he couldn’t keep the emotion out of his voice entirely.

“Hmmm,” Cas grinned. “I’ll pretend you didn’t do most of the talking these past few minutes.”

Dean had the decency to fluster, but he was too pleased with how this all turned out to truly care. “Good, cause I’m done talking for now. Bring it in, Hot Wings.”

Cas groaned at the nickname, but obliged, cupping Dean’s face in his hands and holding him still within his gaze. Dean swallowed gently. Cas’ eyes carried the same raw, honest emotion his words had. His whole being softened as they dipped into the kiss. Their eyes fluttered shut at the last second, surrendering to each other. 

Today. Tomorrow. 

As long as Dean’s hands and Cas’ wings held them aloft.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This it it. The curtain falls for these two. If you stuck it out until this rather sappy last chapter, I thank you from the bottom of my heart. For taking the time to read, leave kudos and/or comment. I am glad so many of you joined and seem to have enjoyed yourselves. I know I did.
> 
> The art is a first attempt at using my iPad and getting the hang of Procreate. Obviously I am still finding my way around it and have a long way to go, but I am pleased with how this little thing turned out.
> 
> If you can find the time to drop me a last comment, I'd appreciate it tremendously. 
> 
> Be good to yourself!  
> Much love,  
> Mal


	30. Fanart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yoga teacher Cas!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tried my hand at some fanart and working on more stuff for various stories. Slow process though. And not sure I'm entirely pleased? But I rarely am.
> 
> That said, have Cas! I'm trying to figure out the clothes and expression for the Dean to go with this.
> 
> Hugs,  
> Mal


End file.
